obedient and blessed one, the first of creatures to worship Ahura-Mazda,
the Creator. Thou didst also worship the bountiful immortals, and wast
the first to brandish the veresma and to sing the Gathas. Thou didst
slay the all-destroying demon, and thou protectest the world and its
denizens. Thou sleepest not, nor slumberest day or night. Thou teachest
men the true religion--that of Ahura-Mazda.
THE FIVE GATHAS
[_Gatha_ means "song," and is the same word as the Sanscrit _Gita_ (Cf.
p. 61 Bhagavad-Gita). These five gathas include yasnas 28-34, 43-46,
47-50, and 51-53. In metre, vocabulary, and matter, the gathas prove
themselves to be the oldest part of the Avesta. The doctrines taught are
likewise purer and more rational. Note the following:--I. There is one
supreme good deity, Ahura-Mazda, the conception of whom is so lofty
that, in order to save his character, a spirit of evil (Ahriman) has
been invented. To the supreme good spirit are ascribed six attributes
which are often personified. In the later parts of the Avesta these
attributes are made independent persons (the bountiful immortals, or the
Amesha Spentas). But in the Gathas they form with Ahura-Mazda a unity
much resembling the Sabellian trinity. 2. The doctrine of reward and
punishment that is taught in the Gathas is subjective, _i.e._, it makes
a man's reward and punishment consist in change of character,
disposition, etc.
It is a strange coincidence that the highest form of Indian and Iranian
belief is to be found in the earliest literature of these religions,
_i.e._, the Vedas and the Gathas. This does not agree with the opinion
that most prevails, that in religions there is ever progress from lower
to higher forms.
In these Gathas there is a unity of thought and feeling suggesting
strongly unity of authorship. There is general agreement that the one
author to whom at least the great bulk of the Gathas is due is
Zarathustra himself. Roth, L.H. Mills, and other scholars date the
Gathas as they would the Vedas, somewhere between B.C. 1200 and 1500,
and they therefore fix upon the same date for the work of Zarathustra
himself. Other Avestan scholars (A.V.W. Jackson, etc.) fix the date of
Zarathustra's life, and therefore of the Gathas, some time near B.C.
600. If the latter opinion is held, it is probable that the substance of
the Gathas is much older than the form which they take in the Avesta.]
GATHA I, Yasnas 28-34, 29, which is earlier than 28.
THE CALL OF ZARATHUSTRA. The afflicted people cry out aloud to thee, O
Ahura-Mazda, and also to the Asha, the author of the divine order. Why
were we made to be exposed to the attacks of suffering and of sin? The
divine one asked Asha "Hast thou appointed a guardian over this people
to defend them from evil?" Said Asha: "There is no man in this world
that has to bear his lot of suffering and to resist moral adversaries,
but the great Creator knows all about his life, and demands from him all
that he is capable of. No man can choose anyone who is able to secure
justice and happiness in the world." "But I," said Ahura-Mazda, "have
chosen one for this great task, it is Zarathustra, the prophet and
priest." On hearing of his divine appointment, Zarathustra prayed to his
god, saying, "Do thou, O all-wise one, aid me, directing my thoughts,
choosing for me my words, and guiding my steps, for without thee I can
do nothing."
28. ZARATHUSTRA'S PRAYER FOR HELP. Teach me, O loftiest one, thy ways,
and encourage me by thy promises to observe thy ceremonies. When shall I
become acquainted with thine own pure mind, and know what is truly good?
When shall I realise thee in my own soul, and have fellowship with thee
without the mediation of man or angels? I do not ask for riches, or
booty, or worldly prosperity, but for righteousness.
GRATITUDE FOR BLESSINGS ALREADY RECEIVED. Thou hast granted my requests,
and given me the boon which I asked for. May I never offend thee, nor be
ungrateful! Supply my lot with what thou knowest to be best, and not
with what I desire. Make thou clear to me the laws which govern thy
kingdom, that I may be a safe guide to others.
30. THE CREED WHICH ZARATHUSTRA IS TO PREACH. I announce to all who
desire to know, the true doctrine about the Creation. Let all that
listen give heed and shape their ways according to this teaching:--There
were at the beginning two spirits and nothing more--a better principle
and a worse. This pair existed independently each of the other. The good
spirit (Ahura-Mazda) made all that he created perfect and just, like
himself, but the evil spirit (Ahriman) created things that were evil.
Why have the Daevas-worshippers perverted the truth and gone astray from
the right path? Because the creator of evil has taken possession of
them. All such as make their thoughts, words, and deeds conform to the
will of the good spirit have an eternal reward, and their salvation has
already begun. But such as yield to the evil impulses prompted by
Ahriman shall abide eternally in woe and misery.
31. THE TWO PARTIES. Many there are who hiss at this teaching of mine,
and will have none of it, but the people of Ahura give heed thereto. O
supreme spirit of good, grant me by the sacred fire and the holy ritual
some sign that will convince and convert men, so that all may be brought
to thee and be made to abandon their Daevas. O ye bountiful immortals,
will ye give me prophetic knowledge that I may lead men aside from the
error of their ways; what punishment shall be his who strives to set up
in our midst a king belonging to the Daeva party?
GATHA 2. 43-46.
[This part of the Avesta gives a fuller and correcter view of the work
and teaching of Zarathustra than any other.]
43. The Theophany of Ahura-Mazda to Zarathustra. I saw Ahura-Mazda on
high and he made known to me his truth, that I may tell it to men.
44. A PRAYER FOR KNOWLEDGE. Speak thou truly to me, O Ahura-Mazda, and
not falsely as the Daevas do to their worshippers. How came this present
world to be, and to be supported, if not through thee? Who made the sun
and moon and stars, and the waters and the winds and the trees, who, if
not thou? Reveal thou to me, O great one, the inner truth of things.
O ye crowds of men, when will ye call evil, evil, and good, good,
instead of the contrary? Have the Daevas ever supplied good rulers?
_II.--VISPEREDS_
[The word Vispered means "all the lords," and this section is so called
because it contains invocations to all the lords or gods. It consists
almost entirely of extracts from other parts of the Avesta, especially
from the Yasnas. What is not found elsewhere has no special value and
need not be summarised.]
_III.--VENDIDADS_ (LIT. "LAWS AGAINST DEMONS")
[This is not strictly a liturgical work, but a priestly code describing
the various purifications, penalties and expiations by which faults of
various kinds are atoned for, or their consequences annulled. The
existing Vendidads agree almost exactly with Nask (19) of the original
Avesta, the only part of the Avesta in which one of the Nasks has been
completely preserved. The Vendidads are divided into twenty-two Fargads,
or sections.]
FARGAD 3. THE SANCTITY OF AGRICULTURE. The earth should be cultivated,
1. that it may bring forth food for man and beast, 2. because it
promotes human piety. "How is it, O great creator," asks Zarathustra,
"that religion is to be spread?" "By cultivating barley," was the
answer, "for he who cultivates barley, cultivates purity. When barley is
threshed or ground, and when flour is produced, devils whistle, whine,
and waste away, knowing full well that man's idleness is their only
opportunity." (Cf. compare Dr. Watts' line "Satan finds some mischief
still, for idle hands to do.")
FARGAD 4. CIVIL AND CRIMINAL LAW. Whoever refuses to restore property to
one to whom he knows it belongs by right, is a thief. Every day and
night that he keeps this property he is guilty of theft. "How many kinds
of property are there?" asked Zarathustra. "These six," was the answer.
"1. That made by mere words. 2. That made by striking hands. 3. That
made by depositing a sheep as security. 4, 5, 6. Those cases in which
the security is respectively an ox, a man's value, and the value of a
full field." Then there follow details of penalties for violating these
several contracts:--_e.g._, for breaking the first--300 stripes of the
rod, and so forth.
FARGADS 5-18, give the laws for the treatment of dead bodies. The two
determining principles are--1. That a dead body is impure. 2. The
elements earth, fire, and water, are absolutely pure and sacred. Bodies
are not, therefore, to be buried, or they would pollute the earth; nor
are they to be burnt, or they would pollute fire, nor thrown into water
of any kind. They must be carried up to a lofty mountain, placed on
stones, or iron plates, and exposed to dogs and vultures. Impurity from
contact with a dead body, etc., is removed by pure water (Cf. the water
of baptism). Then there follow laws prescribing the counter-charms to be
used against evil spirits; the methods by which the sacred fire must be
made and used, and so forth.
FARGAD 19, treats of the fate of the soul after death.
The Aprocryphal or Khorda Avesta
[The Yashts resemble closely the prayers of the Yasnas and the
Vispereds, differing only in this, that each one of the twenty-four
extant is devoted to the traits of a single deity, or at least of one
class of divine beings (the bountiful immortals, and so forth). The
usual word in the Yashts for the superhuman beings at rest is Yazads.]
YASHT I. The names of Ahura-Mazda and their efficacy.
Asked Zarathustra, "What, O Most High, are the most effective
counter-charms (mantras) against evil spirits?" He received for answer
that the pronunciation of the twenty different names of Ahura-Mazda are
the best and strongest spells. These are the following:--1. The
Revealer. 2. The Herd-giver, etc., etc. The twentieth and last is Mazda,
the All-knowing One.
* * * * *
_PHILOSOPHY_
* * * * *
ARISTOTLE
THE ETHICS OF ARISTOTLE
Aristotle was born at Stagira, a Greek colony on the
Macedonian frontier, in 384 B.C., when Plato was forty-three,
fifteen years after the death of Socrates. Going to Athens, he
became one of Plato's pupils in philosophy at the age of
twenty. In 342 he became tutor to the future Alexander the
Great, and some years later opened, again at Athens, his own
school, whose disciples were called the Peripatetics. He died
in 322 B.C. His works laid the systematic foundations of every
science known in his time. His various treatises on logic were
comprised in the "Organon"; he dealt with psychology and
metaphysics; with rhetoric and the principles of literary
criticism. He also systematised the natural sciences; and the
two works here given, "the Ethics" and "Politics," have
profoundly influenced ethical and political thought from his
own day to ours. In particular, his classification of the
virtues, and his doctrine that virtue lies in a "mean," have
dominated a vast amount of moral speculation. The treatises as
we know them are so crabbed and condensed in style as to give
the impression that they are to a large extent not the
finished works, but notes and summaries.
_I.--THE END OF LIFE AND THE MEANING OF VIRTUE_
Every art and science, every action, has for its end some good, whether
this be a form of activity or an actual product. The ends of minor arts
are only means to the ends of superior arts. If there is one supreme
end, this is The Good, inquiry into which belongs to the supreme Social
Science [for which the Greek term is Politics]. The name given to this
supreme good, the attainment of which is the object of Politics, is
Happiness, good living, or welfare.
But Happiness itself is variously defined; some identify it with
Pleasure, others with Honour--the first a degrading, and the second an
inadequate view. Platonists find it in an abstract Idea of Good, a
Universal which precludes particulars. There is a great deal to be said
against this doctrine, even as a question of logic or metaphysic; but
apart from that, the theory is out of court, for the all sufficient
reason that its practical value is _nil_--knowledge of the great
Universal Good in the abstract is of no practical use whatever in
everyday life, which is a fundamental point for us.
If, then, there is a supreme dominating Good to be aimed at, what are
the essential characteristics it must display? The Good of all Goods,
the Best, must be complete in itself, a consummation. Whatsoever is a
means to some end beyond fails so far of completeness; when we say that
our end must be "complete," it follows that it must always be an end,
never a means. It is not merely one amongst others of which it is the
best, but the one in which all the others are summed up. It is of itself
quite sufficient for the individual, and that not merely in isolation,
but as a member of society--which it is his nature to be.
Let us then define Happiness as Man's _Work_--the performance of his
function as man. Everything has some specific function, the performance
of which is its Good, and man, too, must have a specific function. Now,
this cannot be the kind of life which he shares with the vegetable or
with the brute creation, therefore it must be the active life of his
distinctive--_i.q.,_ his rational--part, exercised in accordance with
the virtue or virtues which perfect it, and in his life as a whole, not
merely at moments.
Testing our conclusions by the judgments of common experience, we gather
support from them. Goods external, and goods of the body, are reckoned
inferior to goods of the soul, which is recognised as the seat of
activities. The identification of happiness with virtue, however,
necessitates the distinction between active virtue and virtuousness. As
conducing to active virtue, the other kinds of goods are elements in
happiness. We must assume it to be not something granted to us, outside
our own control, but attainable by effort and education.
Virtues are of two kinds: of the intellect, acquired by study; and
moral, acquired by practice. The moral virtues are not implanted by
nature, but we have the capacity for them by nature, and achieve them by
practice, as by practice we acquire excellence in the arts, or control
over our passions. Education, then, is of the utmost importance, since
the state or habit of virtue is the outcome of virtue in act.
The manner, the "how" of action, must be in accord with Right Reason,
whereof we shall speak elsewhere. Here we must recognise that we are not
laying down universal propositions, but general rules which are modified
by circumstances. Our activities must lie in a mean between the two
extremes of excess and defect, and this applies both to the process of
generating virtue, and to its manifestation. The virtues are concerned
with pleasure and pain, because these act as inducements or opposing
influences; Beauty, Advantage, and Pleasure being the three standing
inducements, and Pleasure entering into both the others; so that in one
aspect Virtue is the Best action in respect to pleasure.
But it does not lie in the mere act; the act must be born of knowledge
and of choice done for its own sake, and persistently--the first,
knowledge, being the least important; to make it the most important is a
speculative error.
Now, there are three modes of mind: feeling or passion, faculty, and
habit. We do not praise or blame passion in itself, or the faculty;
therefore virtue can lie in neither, but must be found in habit or
condition. The virtuous habit or condition is what enables that whereof
it is the virtue to perform its function, which, in the case of man, is
the activity of the soul, preserving always a middle course between
excess and deficiency, by choice.
In another sense, however, we must remember that there are qualities in
themselves wrong, and that virtue may be presented as not something
intermediate, but a consummation. But when we name each of these
virtues--Courage, Temperance, Liberality, etc.; the social virtues, or
good manners; the virtues concerned with the passions--we can name the
corresponding excess or deficiency. Justice and the intellectual virtues
demand a separate analysis.
Each virtue stands in opposition to each of the extremes, and each of
these to the other extreme, though in some cases the virtue may be more
antagonistic to one extreme than to the other, as courage to cowardice
more than to rashness. In individual cases, it is difficult to avoid
being deflected towards one or other of the extremes.
Before proceeding with this analysis, we must examine the question of
choice. To be praiseworthy, an act must be voluntary. An act is not
voluntary if it is the outcome of external compulsion. Where there is a
margin of choice, an act must still, on the whole, be regarded as
voluntary, though done "against our will." Of properly involuntary acts,
we must distinguish between the unintentional and the unwilling, meaning
by the latter, in effect, what the agent would not have done if he had
known.
Choice is not the same thing as a voluntary act; nor is it desire, or
emotion, or exactly "wish," since we may wish for, but cannot make
choice of, the unattainable. Nor is it Deliberation--rather, it is the
act of decision following deliberation. If man has the power to say yes,
he has equally the power to say no, and is master of his own action. If
we make a wrong choice through ignorance for which we are ourselves
responsible, the ignorance itself is culpable, and cannot excuse the
wrong choice; and so, when the choice is the outcome of a judgment
disordered by bad habits, men cannot escape by saying they were made
so--they made themselves so. To say they "could not help" doing wrong
things is only an evasion.
_II.--THE MORAL VIRTUES EXAMINED_
Virtues, then, are habits, issuing in acts corresponding to those by
which the habit was established, directed by Right Reason, every such
act being voluntary, and the whole process a voluntary process.
We may now turn to the analysis of the several virtues.
Courage has to do with fear. Not all kinds; for there are some things we
ought to fear, such as dishonour and pauperism, the fear of which is
compatible with dauntless courage, while the coward may not fear them.
Fearlessness of what is in our control, and endurance of what is not,
for the sake of true honour, constitute the courageous habit. Its excess
is rashness or foolhardiness, the deficiency cowardice. Akin to it, but
still spurious, is the courage of which the motive is not Honour but
honours or reputation. Spurious also is the courage which arises from
the knowledge that the danger is infinitesimal; so is that which is born
of blind anger, or of elated self-confidence, or of mere unconsciousness
of danger. True Courage lies in resisting a temptation to pleasure or to
escaping pain, and, above all, death, for Honour's sake. The exercise of
a virtue may be very far from pleasant, except, of course, in so far as
the end for which it was exercised is achieved.
Temperance is concerned with pleasures of the senses; mainly of touch,
in a much less degree of taste; but not of sight, hearing, or smell,
except indirectly. Of carnal pleasures, some are common to all, some
have an individual application. Temperance lies in being content to do
without them, and desiring them only so far as they conduce to health
and comfort. The characteristic of intemperance is that it has to do
with pleasures only, not with pains. Hence, it is more purely voluntary
than cowardice, as being less influenced by perturbing outward
circumstances as concerns the particular case, though not the habit.
Liberality is concerned with money matters, and lies between
extravagance and meanness. Really it means the right treatment of money,
both in spending and receiving it--the former rather than the latter. A
man is not really liberal who lavishes money for baser purposes, or
takes it whence he should not, or fails to take due care of his
property. The liberal man tends to err in the direction of lavishness.
Extravagance is curable, but is frequently accompanied by carelessness
as to the objects on which the money is spent and the sources from which
it is obtained. The habit of meanness is apt to be ineradicable, and is
displayed both in the acquisition and in the hoarding of money.
Munificence is a virtue concerned only with expenditure on a large
scale, and it implies liberality. It lies between vulgar ostentation and
niggardliness. It is possible only for the wealthy, and is concerned
mainly with public works, but also with private occasions of ceremony.
The error of vulgar ostentation is misdirection of expenditure, not
excess. Niggardliness abstains from a proper expenditure.
Magnanimity is the virtue of the aristocrat; its excess is
self-glorification, its deficiency self-depreciation. The magnanimous
man will bate nothing of his claim to honour, power and wealth, not as
caring greatly for them, but as demanding what he knows to be his due.
This character involves the possession of the virtues; the man must act
in the grand manner and on the grand scale. He knows his own
superiority, does not conceal it, and acts up to it. Self-glorification
overrates its own capacities; self-depreciation underrates them and
shuns its responsibilities, being the more reprehensible of the two.
There is a nameless virtue which stands to magnanimity in the same
relation as that of liberality to munificence; these being concerned
with honours, as those with money. The excess is ambition, the
deficiency is the lack of it; but here terminology fails us.
Good temper is a mean between ill-temper--whether of the irascible, the
sulky, or the cantankerous kind--and something for which we have no name
(poor-spiritedness). Friendliness comes between the excessive desire to
please and boorishness. It is a social virtue which might be defined as
goodwill _plus_ tact. Sincerity [there is no English term quite
corresponding to the Greek] is the quality opposed on the one side to
boastfulness, and on the other to mock-modesty; it is displayed by the
man who acknowledges, but who never exaggerates his own merits. In the
social display of wit and humour, there is a marked mean between the
buffoon and the dullard or prig. Shame is a term implying a feeling
rather than a habit; like fear, it has a physical effect, producing
blushes, and seems, in fact, to be fear of disrepute. To the young, it
is a safeguard against vice; the virtuous man need never feel it; to be
unable to feel it implies the habit of vice. Continence is not properly
in the category of moral virtues.
_III.--JUSTICE_
We come now to Justice. A specific habit differs from a specific faculty
or science, as each of the latter covers opposites, _e.g._, the science
of health is also the science of sickness; whereas the habit of Justice
does not cover but is opposed to the habit of Injustice. Justice itself
is a term used in various senses; and the senses in which injustice is
used vary correspondingly. Confusion is apt to arise from these varying
senses not being distinguished. Injustice includes law-breaking,
grasping and unfairness. Grasping is taking too much of what is good
only; unfairness is concerned with both what is good and what is
injurious. But in the legal sense, whatever law lays down is assumed to
be just. Law, however, covers the whole field of virtuous action as it
affects our neighbours, so that in this general sense justice is an
inclusive term equivalent to righteousness. We, however, must confine
ourselves to the specific sense of the terms.
Grasping is, in fact, included in unfairness, which is the real opposite
of specific justice; it includes law-breaking only so far as the law is
broken for the sake of gain. The justice with which we are concerned has
two branches: Distributive, of honours and the like among citizens by
the State, and of private property by contract and agreement; and
Corrective, the remedying of unfair distribution. There are always two
parties, and justice is the mean between the unfairness which favours A
and the unfairness which favours B. Distributive justice takes into
consideration the merits of the parties; corrective justice is concerned
only with restoring a balance which has been disturbed. The distribution
is a question not of equality, but of right proportion; and this applies
to retribution, which is recognised as one of its aspects, _e.g._, the
retribution for an officer striking a private and for a private striking
an officer. Proportional requital is the economic basis of society,
arrived at by the existence of a comparatively unfluctuating currency
which provides a criterion.
In the State, as such, justice is obtained from the law and its
administrators; justice is the virtue of the magistrate. Since he has
nothing to gain or lose himself, it has been supposed that justice is
"another's good," not our own. In the family, justice does not come in,
the whole household being, in a sense, parts of the _pater familias_;
and as you cannot be unjust to yourself, you cannot be unjust to your
household. In the State, what is just is fixed partly by the nature of
things, partly by law or convention.
As to individual acts, injury may arise from a miscalculation, or from
an incalculable accident; it becomes a wrong when it was intentional but
not premeditated, an injustice when premeditated. An act _prima facie_
unjust is not so if done with the free consent of the person injured. It
is the agent of distribution, not the recipient, who is unjust (when
they are different persons); and similarly, the agent, not the
instrument. And even the agent of unjust distribution is not really
unjust unless he was really actuated by motives of personal gain.
The performance of a particular act is easy. To perform it rightly as
the outcome of a right habit, is not; nor is it easy to be confident as
to what is right in the particular case. The man who is just, having the
habit, does not find it easy to act unjustly.
What we must call equity may be opposed to justice, but only in the
legal sense of that term. It is justice freed from the errors incidental
to the particular case, for which the law cannot provide. Injustice,
again, is found in self-injury or suicide; which the law penalises, not
because the individual thereby treats himself unjustly, but because he
does an injustice to the community. It is only by metaphor that a man
may be called unjust to himself, an expression which means that the
relation between one part of him and another part of him is analogous to
the unjust relation between persons.
_IV.--WISDOM, PRUDENCE AND CONTINENCE_
The ensuing discussion of intellectual virtue requires some remarks on
the soul. We distinguish in the rational part, that which knows,
concerned, with the unchanging; and that which reasons, concerned with
the changing. Our intellects and our propensions--not our
sense-perceptions, which are shared with animals--guide our actions and
our apprehension of truth. Attraction and repulsion, in correspondence
with affirmation and denial, combine to form right choice; the
practical--as opposed to the pure--reason having an external object, and
being a motive power.
There are five modes of attaining truth: (1) Concerning things
unalterable, defined as demonstrative science; (2) concerning the making
of things changeable, art; (3) concerning the doing--not making--of
things changeable, prudence; (4) intuitive reason, the basis of
demonstrative science; (5) wisdom, the union of intuitive reason and
science.
Wisdom and prudence are the two virtues of the intellect. Wisdom implies
intuitive reason, which grasps undemonstrable first principles; it is
concerned with the interests not of the moment, the individual, or the
locality. Whereas prudence is concerned precisely with these; it is
essentially practical. Wisdom cannot be identified with statesmanship;
which, again, is not the same as prudence--which applies to the self,
and to the family, as well as to the State; it differs from wisdom as
requiring experience.
Wisdom, knowledge of the ultimate bases, is equally without practical
bearing for those who have acquired a right habit and for those who have
not; just as a knowledge of medical theory is of no use to the average
man. But being an activity of the soul, _ipso facto_, it conduces to
happiness. The general conclusion is that what we have called "prudence"
shows the means to the end which the moral virtues aim at. It is not a
moral virtue, but the moral virtues accord with it. Both are necessary
to the achievement of goodness.
We come now to a second group of qualities, concerned with conduct. We
have dealt with the virtues and their opposing vices. We pass by the
infra-human and the supra-human bestiality and holiness; but have still
to deal with Continence and its contrasted qualities, which are
concerned with the passions.
In the popular view, continence, self-control, is adherence to our
formed judgment. Incontinence is yielding to passion where we know it to
be wrong, and may be indulged in the pursuit of vengeance, honour, or
gain. A number of _prima facie_ contradictions are started out of the
popular views. We find that a man does not act against complete
knowledge or knowledge of which he is fully conscious. The knowledge
may, so to speak, be there, but is in abeyance, a condition which is
palpably exemplified in a drunken man. Now, incontinence is concerned
with pleasures, which are necessary--as for sustenance of life--and
unnecessary but, _per se_, desirable, as honour. Incontinence is a term
applied only by analogy in the case of the latter; its proper
concern--as with the moral vice, which we call intemperance--is with the
former. It implies, however, violent desire, which intemperance does
not. We have examples of such desires in a morbid or diseased form,
species of mania; but here again the term incontinence is only applied
by analogy. Its legitimate application, in short, is restricted to the
normal.
Incontinence in respect of anger is not so bad as in respect of desire.
It is often constitutional, it is in itself painful, and it is not
wanton, being in all three points unlike the other. What we spoke of as
bestiality is more horrible than vice or incontinence, as being inhuman;
but it does less harm. Incontinence means transgressing the ordinary
standards in respect of pleasure and pain. Such transgression, when of
set purpose, and not followed by repentance--consequently, incurable--is
the moral vice of intemperance; which, being characterised by the
absence of violent desire, is worse than incontinence. The latter is
open, and is curable. The confusion between the two is due to their
issuing in like acts; the passionate impulse is temporary; it is not a
formed habit of wrong choice.
Continence is acting on conviction in resistance to passion; not merely
sticking to any and every opinion, which is really rather more like
incontinence. The other extreme, of actual apathy, is rare. Continence
differs from temperance, as implying resistance to strong desires;
whereas temperance implies that such desires are not active.
Prudence--but not the acuteness which is sometimes confused with
prudence--is incompatible with incontinence, which is least curable when
the outcome of weakness.
Here it becomes necessary to make some inquiry as to Pleasure and Pain.
Some maintain that pleasure is never good, some that it is partly good
and partly not; some that it is good, but not the best But it cannot be
bad _per se_, since it may be defined as the unimpeded activity of a
formed faculty. Pleasure, as such, is not a hindrance to any activity,
but its fulfilment; _e.g.,_ the pleasure of speculative inquiry does not
hinder it. As a matter of fact, everyone does pursue pleasure; the
denial that it is good results from thinking of it as meaning only
bodily pleasures. And even they are not evil, but only the excessive
pursuit of them. As to pleasure being fleeting, that is only because
circumstances vary. The pleasure of the unchanging would be permanent.
_V.--FRIENDSHIP_
A quality rendered as "Friendship"--though the Greek and English terms
are not identical in content--now comes under examination. It is a
relation to some other person or persons without which life is hardly
worth living. Some account for it on the principle of "like to like,"
others on the opposite theory. Now, lovableness comes of goodness, or
pleasantness, or usefulness. Love is not bestowed on the inanimate, and
it must be mutual; it is to be distinguished from goodwill or devotion,
which need not be reciprocated.
Genuine friendship must be based on goodness; what rests on pleasantness
(as with the young), or on utility (as with the old), is only to be
recognised conventionally as friendship. In perfection it cannot subsist
without perfect mutual knowledge, and only between the good; hence it is
not possible for anyone to have many real friends. Of the conventional
forms, that which is born of intellectual sympathy is more enduring than
what springs from sexual attraction; while what comes of utility is
quite accidental. The former may develop into genuine friendship if
there be virtue in both parties. Companionship is a necessary condition,
in any case.
Variants of friendship, however, may subsist between unequals, as
between parents and children, princes and subjects, men and women, where
there is a difference in the character of the affection of the two
parties. A certain degree of inequality--though we cannot lay down the
limitation--makes "friendship" a misnomer. One would not desire the
actual apotheosis of a friend, because that would take him out of reach;
it would end friendship. Friendship lies rather in the active loving
than in being loved, though most people are more anxious to be loved
than to love.
Every form of social community--typified in the State--involves
relationships into which friendship enters. The relationships in the
family correspond to those in states; monarch to subjects as father to
children, tyrant to subjects as master to slaves; autocratic rule to
that of the husband, oligarchic rule to that of the wife; what we call
Timocracy to the fraternal relation, and Democracy to the entirely
unregulated household. In some kinds of association, friendship takes
the form of _esprit de corps_. It may be seen that quarrels arise most
readily in those friendships between equals which are based upon
interest, and in friendships between unequals.
Friendship is a kind of exchange--equal between equals, and proportional
between unequals; a repayment. This suggests various questions as to
priority of claim--_e.g.,_ between paying your father's ransom and
repaying a loan, both being in a sort the repayment of a debt. No fixed
law can be laid down--_i.e.,_ it cannot be said that one obligation at
all times and in all circumstances overrides all others.
The dissolution of friendship is warranted when one party has become
depraved, since he has changed from being the person who was the object
of friendship. But he should not be given up while there is hope of
restoring his character. Again, if one develops a great superiority,
friendship proper cannot persist--at least, in its first form. Our
relations with a friend are much like those with our own selves; the
true friend is a sort of _alter ego_. Friendship is not to be identified
with goodwill, though the latter is a condition precedent; we may feel
goodwill, but not friendship, towards a person we have never seen or
spoken to. Unanimity of feeling--not as to facts, but as to ends and
means--is a sort of equivalent to friendship in the body politic. The
reason why conferring a benefit creates more affection than receiving it
seems to be that the benefactor feels himself the maker of the other; we
all incline to love what we produced--as parents their children, or the
artist his own creations.
Self-love is wrong in a sense--the usual sense in which the term is
used, of giving priority to oneself in the acquisition of material
pleasures. But the seeking of the noblest things for oneself is really
self-love, and may involve giving others, especially friends, the
priority in respect of desirable things--even to resigning to another
the opportunity of doing a noble deed. In this higher sense, self-love
is praiseworthy.
The good man is self-sufficing, but friends are desirable, if not
actually necessary to him, as giving scope for the exercise of
beneficent activities, not as conferring benefits upon him. Besides,
man's highest activities must be exercised not in isolation, but as a
member of society, and such life lacks completeness if without friends.
Finally, friendship attains its completest realisation where comradeship
is complete; that is to say, in a common life.
_VI.--CONCLUSION_
We must revert once more to the question of Pleasure and Pain. To say
that pleasure is not good is absurd; he who does so stultifies himself
by his own acts. Eudoxus thought it was _the_ good, his opinion being
the weightier because of his temperateness.
It is desired for its own sake; its opposite is admittedly undesirable.
But since it may be added to other good things, it cannot be _the_ good:
though to say that what every one desires is not good at all is folly.
That it is not "a quality," or that it is "indeterminate," are
irrelevant arguments, both statements applying to what are admittedly
among "goods." The doctrine that it is a process, again, will not hold
water. Pleasure is a thing complete; whereas a process is complete at no
moment unless it be that of its termination. It is the completion of its
appropriate activity; not in the sense that a habit makes the activity
complete, but as its accompaniment and complement. Continuous it is not,
just as the activity is not. It is not the complete life, but is
inseparable from it. Pleasures, however, differ specifically and in
value, as do the qualities with whose activities they are associated.
The pleasures proper to men are those associated with the activities
proper to man as man, those shared with other animals being so only in a
less degree.
It remains to recapitulate the sum of our conclusions regarding Happiness.
It is not a habit, but lies in the habitual activities--desirable in
and for themselves not as means--exercised deliberately, excluding mere
amusement. Man's highest faculty being intelligence, its activity is his
highest happiness--contemplation--constant, sufficient, and sought not
as a means, but as an end.
This kind of happiness belongs to the gods also. Exclusively human, but
below the other, is the fulfilment of the moral life, conditioned by
human society, and more affected by environments and material wants. For
contemplative activity, the barest material needs suffice. But this does
not of itself induce the moral life, being apart from conduct. To induce
morality, not only knowledge, but the right habit of action--which does
not follow from knowledge and may be implanted without it--is absolutely
necessary. Compulsion may successfully establish the habit where
argument might fail. Compulsion, therefore, is the proper course for the
State to take.
* * * * *
MARCUS AURELIUS
HIS DISCOURSES WITH HIMSELF
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, Roman emperor and Stoic
philosopher, was born on April 20, 121 A.D. Having been
adopted by Antoninus Pius, whose daughter Faustina he married,
he succeeded him as emperor in 161, but freely shared the
imperial throne with Lucius Verus, who also had been adopted
by Pius. Marcus Aurelius reigned until his death, on March 17,
180, in almost uninterrupted conflict with rebellious
provinces, and often heavily burdened with the internal
troubles of Rome. But the serenity of this august mind, and
his constancy to wisdom, virtue and religion, were never
shaken. For magnanimity, fidelity, resignation, fortitude and
mercy, he stands unrivalled by any other figure of the pagan
world. Nor did that world produce any other book which, like
his, remains as an unfailing companion to every generation of
the modern age. The charm of these fragmentary meditations
depends greatly on their convincing candour; there is not a
trace of the cant and exaggeration that so taint the
moralisings of lesser men. It depends also on their iron
stoicism; there are here no doubtful comforts, no rosy
illusions. But it depends chiefly on the admirable and lovable
human character which is revealed in them. They were written
in Greek, and were probably jotted down at odd moments under
the most various circumstances. Tradition says that they were
intended for the guidance of his son.
_BOOK I_
The example of my grandfather Verus taught me to be candid and to
control my temper. By the memory of my father's character I learned to
be modest and manly. My mother taught me regard for religion, to be
generous and open-handed, and neither to do an ill turn to anyone nor
even to think of it. She bred me also to a plain and inexpensive way of
living. I owe it to my grandfather that I had not a public education,
but had good masters at home. From my tutor I learned not to identify
myself with popular sporting interests, but to work hard, endure
fatigue, and not to meddle with other people's affairs. Diognetus taught
me to bear freedom and plain dealing in others, and gave me a taste for
philosophy. Rusticus first set me to improve my character, and prevented
me from running after the vanity of the Sophists, and from concerning
myself with rhetorical and poetic conceits, or with the affectations of
a dandy. He taught me to read an author carefully, and gave me a copy of
Epictetus. Apollonius showed me how to give my mind its due freedom, to
disregard everything that was not true and reasonable, and to maintain
an equable temper under the most trying circumstances. Sextus taught me
good humour, to be obliging, and to bear with the ignorant and
thoughtless. From Maximus I learned to command myself, and to put
through business efficiently, without drudging or complaint. From my
adoptive father I learned a smooth and inoffensive temper, and a
greatness proof against vanity and the impressions of pomp and power; I
learned that it was the part of a prince to check flattery, to have his
exchequer well furnished, to be frugal in his expenses, not to worship
the gods to superstition, but to be reserved, vigilant and well poised.
I thank the gods that my grandfathers, parents, sister, preceptors,
relatives, friends and domestics were almost all persons of probity, and
that I never happened to disoblige any of them. By the goodness of the
gods I was not provoked to expose my infirmities. I owe it to them also
that my wife is so deferential, affectionate and frugal; and that when I
had a mind to look into philosophy I did not spend too much time in
reading or logic-chopping. All these points could never have been
guarded without a protection from above.
_BOOK II_
Put yourself in mind, every morning, that before night you will meet
with some meddlesome, ungrateful and abusive fellow, with some envious
or unsociable churl. Remember that their perversity proceeds from
ignorance of good and evil; and that since it has fallen to my share to
understand the natural beauty of a good action and the deformity of an
ill one; since I am satisfied that the disobliging person is of kin to
me, our minds being both extracted from the Deity; since no man can do
me a real injury because no man can force me to misbehave myself; I
cannot therefore hate or be angry with one of my own nature and family.
For we are all made for mutual assistance, no less than the parts of the
body are for the service of the whole; whence it follows that clashing
and opposition are utterly unnatural. This being of mine consists of
body, breath, and that part which governs. Put away your books and face
the matter itself. As for your body, value it no more than if you were
just expiring; it is nothing but a little blood and bones. Your breath
is but a little air pumped in and out. But the third part is your mind.
Here make a stand. Consider that you are an old man, and do not let this
noble part of you languish in slavery any longer. Let it not be
overborne with selfish passions; let it not quarrel with fate, or be
uneasy at the present, or afraid of the future. Providence shines
clearly through the work of the gods. Let these reflections satisfy you,
and make them your rule to live by. As for books, cease to be eager for
them, that you may die in good humour, heartily thanking the gods for
what you have had.
Remember that you are a man and a Roman, and let your actions be done
with dignity, gravity, humanity, freedom and justice; let every action
be done as though it were your last. Have neither insincerity nor
self-love. Man has to gain but few points in order to live a happy and
godlike life. And what, after all, is there to be afraid of in death? If
the gods exist, you can suffer no harm; and if they do not exist, or
take no care of us mortals, a world without gods or Providence is not
worth a man's while to live in. But the being of the gods, and their
concern in human affairs, is beyond dispute; and they have put it in
every man's power not to fall into any calamity properly so called.
Living and dying, honour and infamy, pleasure and pain, riches and
poverty--all these are common to the virtuous and the depraved, and are
therefore intrinsically neither good nor evil. We live but for a moment;
our being is in a perpetual flux, our faculties are dim, our bodies tend
ever to corruption; the soul is an eddy, fortune is not to be guessed
at, and posthumous fame is oblivion. To what, then, may we trust? Why,
to nothing but philosophy. This is, to keep the interior divinity from
injury and disgrace, and superior to pleasure and pain, and to acquiesce
in one's appointed lot.
_BOOK III_
Observe that the least things and effects in Nature are not without
charm and beauty, as the little cracks in the crust of a loaf, though
not intended by the baker, are agreeable and invite the appetite. Thus
figs, when they are ripest, open and gape; and olives, when they are
near decaying, are peculiarly attractive. The bending of an ear of corn,
the frown of a lion, the foam of a boar, and many other like things, if
you take them singly, are far from beautiful; but seen in their natural
relations are characteristic and effective. So if a man have but
inclination and thought to examine the product of the universe, he will
find that the most unpromising appearances have their own appropriate
charm.
Do not spend your thoughts upon other people, nor pry into the talk,
fancies and projects of another, nor guess at what he is about, or why
he is doing it. Think upon nothing but what you could willingly tell
about, so that if your soul were laid open there would appear nothing
but what was sincere, good-natured, and public-spirited. A man thus
qualified is a sort of priest and minister of the gods, and makes a
right use of the divinity within him. Be cheerful; depend not at all on
foreign supports, nor beg your happiness of another; don't throw away
your legs to stand upon crutches.
If, in the whole compass of human life, you find anything preferable to
justice and truth, temperance and fortitude, or to a mind self-satisfied
with its own rational conduct and entirely resigned to fate, then turn
to it as to your supreme happiness. But if there be nothing more
valuable than the divinity within you, if all things are trifles in
comparison with this, then don't divide your allegiance. Let your choice
run all one way, and be resolute for that which is best. As for other
speculations, throw them once for all out of your hand.
_BOOK IV_
It is the custom of people to go to unfrequented places and to the
seashore and to the hills for retirement; and you yourself have often
wished this solitude. But, after all, this is only a vulgar fancy, for
it is in your power to withdraw into yourself whenever you have a mind
to it. One's own heart is a place the most free from crowd and noise in
the world if only one's thoughts are serene and the mind well ordered.
Make, therefore, frequent use of this retirement, therein to refresh
your virtue. And to this end be always provided with a few short,
uncontested notions, to keep your understanding true. Do not forget to
retire to this solitude of yours; let there be no straining or
struggling in the matter, but move at ease.
If understanding be common to us all, then reason, its cause, must be
common, too. And so also must the reason which governs conduct by
commands and prohibitions be common to us all. Mankind is therefore
under one common law, and so are fellow-citizens; and the whole world is
but one commonwealth, for there is no other society in which mankind can
be incorporated.
Do not suppose that you are hurt, and your complaint will cease.
If a man affronts you, do not defer to his opinion, or think just as he
would have you do. No; look upon things as reality presents them. When
incense is thrown upon the altar, one grain usually falls before
another; but it matters not.
Adhere to the principles of wisdom, and those who now take you for a
monkey or a beast will make a god of you in a week.
A thing is neither better nor worse for being praised. Do virtues stand
in need of a good word, or are they the worse for a bad one? An emerald
will shine none the less though its worth be not spoken of.
Whatever is agreeable to You, O Universe, is so to me, too. Your
operations are never mistimed. Whatever Your seasons bring is fruit for
me, O Nature. From You all things proceed, subsist in You, and return to
You. The poet said, "Dear City of Cecrops"; shall we not say, "Dear City
of God"?
The greater part of what we say and do is unnecessary; and if this were
only retrenched we should have more leisure and less disturbance. This
applies to our thoughts also, for impertinence of thought leads to
unnecessary action.
Mankind are poor, transitory things: one day in life, and the next
turned to mummy or ashes. Therefore manage this minute wisely, and part
with it cheerfully; and like a ripe fruit, when you drop, make your
acknowledgments to the tree that bore you.
_BOOK V_
When you feel unwilling to rise early in the morning, make this short
speech to yourself: "I am getting up now to do the business of a man;
and am I out of humour for going about that I was made for, and for the
sake of which I was sent into the world? Was I then designed for nothing
but to doze beneath the counterpane?" Surely action is the end of your
being. Look upon the plants and birds, the ants, spiders and bees, and
you will see that they are all exerting their nature, and busy in their
station. Shall not a man act like a man?
Be not ashamed of any action which is in accordance with Nature, and
never be misled by the fear of censure or reproach. Where honesty
prompts you to say or do anything, let not the opinion of others hold
you back. Go forward by the straight path, pursuing your own and the
common interest.
Some men, when they do you a kindness, ask for the payment of gratitude;
others, more modest, remember the favour and look upon you as their
debtor. But there are yet other benefactors who forget their good deeds;
and these are like the vine, which is satisfied by being fruitful in its
kind, and bears a bunch of grapes without expecting any thanks for it. A
truly kind man never talks of a good turn that he has done, but does
another as soon as he can, just like a vine that bears again the next
season.
We commonly say that Aesculapius has prescribed riding for one patient,
walking for another, a cold bath for a third. In the same way we may say
that the nature of the Universe has ordered this or that person a
disease, loss of limbs or estate, or some such other calamity. For as,
in the first case, the word "prescribed" means a direction for the
health of the patient, so, in the latter, it means an application
suitable for his constitution and destiny.
Be not uneasy, discouraged or out of humour, because practice falls
short of precept in some particulars. If you happen to be vanquished,
come on again, and be glad if most of what you do is worthy of a man.
We ought to live with the gods. This is done by being contented with the
appointments of Providence, and by obeying the orders of that divinity
which is God's deputy; and this divine authority is no more nor less
than that soul and reason which every man carries within him.
_BOOK VI_
The best way of revenge is not to imitate the injury. Be always doing
something serviceable to mankind; and let this constant generosity be
your only pleasure, not forgetting a due regard to God.
The world is either an aggregation of atoms, or it is a unity ruled by
Law and Providence. If the first, what should I stay for, where Nature
is a chaos and things are blindly jumbled together? But if there is a
Providence, then I adore the great Governor of the world, and am at ease
and cheerful in the prospect of protection.
Suppose you had a stepmother and a mother at the same time; though you
would pay regard to the first, your converse would be principally with
the latter. Let the court and philosophy represent these two relations
to me.
If an antagonist in the circus tears our flesh with his nails, or tilts
against us with his head, we do not cry out foul play, nor are we
offended, nor do we suspect him afterwards as a dangerous person. Let us
act thus in the other instances of life. When we receive a blow, let us
think that we are but at a trial of skill, and depart without malice or
ill-will.
It is enough to do my duty; as for other things, I will not be disturbed
about them.
The vast continents of Europe and of Asia are but corners of the
creation; the ocean is but a drop, and Mount Athos but a grain in
respect of the universe; and the present instant of time is but a point
to the extent of eternity.
When you have a mind to divert your fancy, try to consider the good
qualities of your acquaintance--such as the enterprising vigour of this
man, the modesty of another, the liberality of a third, and so on. Let
this practice be always at hand.
_BOOK VII_
What is wickedness? It is nothing new. When you are in danger of being
shocked, consider that the sight is nothing but what you have frequently
seen already. All ages and histories, towns and families, are full of
the same stories; there is nothing new to be met with, but all things
are common and quickly over.
Nature works up the matter of the universe like wax; now it is a horse;
soon afterwards you will find it melted down and run into the figure of
a tree; then it is a man; and so on. Only for a brief time is it fixed
in any species.
Antisthenes said: "It is the fate of princes to be ill spoken of for
their good deeds."
Consider the course of the stars as if you were driving through the sky
and kept them company. Such contemplations as these scour off the rust
contracted by conversing here below.
Rational creatures are designed for the advantage of each other. A
sociable temper is that for which human nature was principally intended.
It is a saying of Plato's that no one misses the truth by his own
goodwill. The same may be said of honesty, sobriety, good nature, and
the like. Remember this, for it will help to sweeten your temper.
Though the gods are immortal, and have had their patience tried through
so many ages, yet they not only bear with a wicked world, but even
provide liberally for it. And are you tired with evil men already,
though you are one of those unhappy mortals yourself?
_BOOK VIII_
Every man has three relations to acquit himself in: his body is one, God
is another, and his neighbours are the third. Have you seen a hand or a
foot cut off and removed from the body? Just such a thing is the man who
is discontented with destiny or cuts himself off by selfishness from the
interest of mankind. But here is the fortunate aspect of the case--it
lies in his power to set the limb on again. Consider the peculiar bounty
of God to man in this privilege: He has set him above the necessity of
breaking off from Nature and Providence at all; but supposing this
misfortune to have occurred, it is in man's power to rejoin the body,
and grow together again, and recover the advantage of being the same
member that he was at first.
Do not take your whole life into your head at a time, nor burden
yourself with the weight of the future, nor form an image of all
probable misfortunes. Neither what is past nor what is to come need
afflict you, for you have only to deal with the present; and this is
strangely lessened if you take it singly and by itself. Chide your
fancy, therefore, if it offers to grow faint under so slender a trial.
Throw me into what climate or state you please, for all that I will keep
my soul content. Is any misadventure big enough to ruffle my peace, or
to make my mind mean, craving and servile? What is there that can
justify such disorders?
Be not heavy in business, nor disturbed in conversation, nor rambling in
thought. Do not burden yourself with too much employment. Do men curse
you? This cannot prevent you from keeping a wise, temperate, and upright
mind. If a man standing by a lovely spring should rail at it, the water
is none the worse for his foul language; and if he throw in dirt it will
quickly disappear, and the fountain will be as wholesome as ever. How
are you to keep your springs always running, and never stagnate into a
pool? You must persevere in the virtues of freedom, sincerity,
moderation, and good nature.
_BOOK IX_
Do not drudge like a galley-slave, nor do business in a laborious
manner, as if you wish to be pitied or wondered at.
As virtue and vice consist in action, and not in the impressions of the
senses, so it is not what they feel, but what they do, which makes
mankind either happy or miserable.
This man prays that he may gain such a woman; but do you rather pray
that you may have no such inclination. Another invokes the gods to set
him free from some troublesome circumstance; but let it be your petition
that your mind may not be set upon such a wish. A third is devout in
order to prevent the loss of his son; but I would have you pray rather
against the fear of losing him. Let this be the rule for your devotions,
and watch the event.
_BOOK X_
O my soul, are you ever to be rightly good, sincere, and uniform, and
made more visible to yourself than the body that hangs about you? Are
you ever likely to relish good nature and general kindness as you ought?
Will you ever be fully satisfied, rise above wanting and wishing, and
never desire to obtain your pleasure out of anything foreign, either
living or inanimate? Are you ever likely to be so happily qualified as
to converse with the gods and men in such a manner as neither to
complain of them nor to be condemned by them?
Put it out of the power of all men to give you a bad name, and if anyone
reports you not to be an honest or a good man let your practice give him
the lie. This is quite feasible; for who can hinder you from being just
and sincere?
There is no one so happy in his family and friends but that some of
them, when they see him going, will rejoice at a good riddance. Let him
be a person of never so much probity and prudence, yet someone will say
at his grave: "Well, our man of order and gravity is gone; we shall be
no more troubled with his discipline." This is the best treatment a good
man must expect.
_BOOK XI_
What a brave soul it is that is always ready to depart from the body,
and is unconcerned as to whether she will be extinguished, scattered, or
removed! But she must be prepared upon reasonable grounds, and not out
of mere obstinacy like the Christians; her fortitude must have nothing
of noise or of tragic ostentation, but must be grave and seemly.
How fulsome and hollow does that man seem who cries: "I'm resolved to
deal sincerely with you!" Hark you, friend, what need of all this
flourish? Let your actions speak. Your face ought to vouch for you. I
would have virtue look out of the eye no less apparently than love does.
A man of integrity and good nature can never be concealed, for his
character is wrought into his countenance.
Gentleness and good humour are invincible, provided they are of the
right stamp and without hypocrisy. This is the way to disarm the most
outrageous person--to continue kind and unmoved under ill usage, and to
strike in at the right opportunity with advice. But let all be done out
of mere love and kindness.
_BOOK XII_
I have often wondered how it is that everyone should love himself best,
and yet value his neighbour's opinion of him more than his own. If any
man should be ordered to turn his inside outwards, and publish every
thought and fancy as fast as they come into his head, he would not
submit to so much as a day of this discipline. Thus it is that we dread
our neighbour's judgment more than our own.
What a mighty privilege man is born to, since it is in his power not to
do anything but what God Almighty approves, and to be satisfied with all
the distributions of Providence!
Reflect upon those who have made the most glorious figure or have met
with the greatest misfortunes. Where are they all now? They are vanished
like a little smoke. The prize is insignificant, and the play not worth
the candle. It is much more becoming to a philosopher to stand clear of
affectation, to be honest and moderate upon all occasions, and to follow
cheerfully wherever the gods lead on, remembering that nothing is more
scandalous than a man who is proud of his humility.
Listen, friend! You have been a burgher of this great city. What matter
though you have lived in it fewer years or more? If you have kept the
laws of the corporation, the length or shortness of the time makes no
difference. Where is the hardship, then, if Nature, that planted you
here, orders your removal? You cannot say you are sent off by an unjust
tyrant No! You quit the stage as fairly as a player does who has his
discharge from the master of the revels. "But I have only gone through
three acts, and not held out to the end of the fifth!" True; but in life
three acts may complete the play. He is the only judge of completeness
who first ordered your entrance and now your exit; you are accountable
for neither the one nor the other. Retire therefore, in serenity, as He
who dismisses you is serene.
* * * * *
FRANCIS BACON
THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING
Francis Bacon, English philosopher and Chancellor, was born on
January 22, 1561, the son of Lord Keeper Bacon, was sent to
Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1573, and entered Gray's Inn in
1576. He had already become profoundly dissatisfied at
Cambridge with the Aristotelian philosophy, and the conception
of a humble and methodical study of Nature had early become
the dominant passion of his life. Bacon became a member of
parliament in 1584, and nine years later distinguished himself
by coming forward as the champion of the privileges of the
House of Commons against the Lords. The "Essays" were
published in 1597. Bacon was knighted in 1603, on the
accession of James I. In October, 1605, he published the
"Advancement of Learning," a work designed to interest the
king in the new philosophy, of which book we here give a
summary. This review of the existing state of knowledge was
intended to be made, later, into the first part of the
"Instauratio Magna" under the title of "Partitiones
Scientiarum." For this purpose Bacon was constantly revising
it, and eventually he had it translated into Latin, and it was
so published, greatly enlarged, in 1623, under the title of
"De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum." The summit of his
career was reached in 1621, when he became Viscount St.
Albans. His fall, on a charge of corruptions in the Court of
Chancery, took place in the following March, and from this
period until his death, on April 9, 1626, he devoted himself
to his philosophical and literary works.
_First Book_
Let us weigh the dignity of knowledge in the balance with other things.
In its archetype it is the Divine wisdom, or sapience, manifested in the
creation. In the celestial hierarchy the supposed Dionysius of Athens
places the angels of knowledge and illumination before those of office
and domination. Then, the first material form that was created was
light, which corresponds in corporal things to knowledge in incorporai.
The day wherein God contemplated His own works was blessed above the
days wherein He accomplished them. Man's first employment in Paradise
consisted of the two chief parts of knowledge, the view of creatures,
and the imposition of names. In the age before the Flood, Scripture
honours the names of the inventors of music and of works in metal. Moses
was accomplished in all the learning of the Egyptians. The book of Job
is pregnant with natural philosophy. In Solomon, the gift of wisdom and
learning is preferred before all other earthly and temporal felicity.
Our Saviour first showed His power to subdue ignorance by His conference
with the doctors, before He showed His power to subdue Nature by
miracles; and the coming of the Holy Spirit was chiefly figured in the
gift of tongues, which are the vehicles of knowledge. St. Paul, most
learned of the apostles, had his pen most used in the New Testament.
Many of the ancient fathers of the Church were excellently read in all
the learning of the heathen; and that heathen learning was preserved,
amid Scythian and Saracen invasions, in the sacred bosom of the Church.
And in our own day, when God has called the Roman Church to account for
degenerate manners and obnoxious doctrines. He has also ordained a
renovation of all other knowledges; and, on the other side, the Jesuits,
by quickening the state of learning, have done notable service to the
Roman See. Wherefore two principal services are performed to religion by
human learning: first, the contemplation of God's works is an effectual
inducement to the exaltation of His glory; and, secondly, true learning
is a singular preservative against unbelief and error.
To pass now to human proofs of the dignity of learning, we find that
among the heathen the inventors of new arts, such as Ceres, Bacchus, and
Apollo, were consecrated among the gods themselves by apotheosis. The
fable of Orpheus, wherein quarrelsome beasts stood sociably listening to
the harp, aptly described the nature of men among whom peace is
maintained so long as they give ear to precepts, laws, and religion. It
has been said that people would then be happy, when kings were
philosophers, or philosophers kings; and history shows that the best
times have ever been under learned princes.
As for the services of knowledge to private virtue, it takes away all
levity, temerity, and insolence by copious suggestion of all doubts and
difficulties, and acquainting the mind to balance reasons on both sides.
It takes away vain admiration of anything, which is the root of all
weakness. No man can marvel at the play of puppets that goes behind the
curtain. And certainly, if a man meditate much upon the universal frame
of Nature, the earth with men upon it (the divineness of souls except)
will not seem much other than an ant-hill, where some ants carry corn,
and some carry their young, and some go empty, and all to and fro a
little heap of dust. But especially learning disposes the mind to be
capable of growth and reformation. For the unlearned man knows not what
it is to descend into himself or to call himself to account, nor the
pleasure of feeling himself each day a better man than he was the day
before; he is like an ill mower, that mows on still and never whets his
scythe. Knowledge crowns man's nature with power. It even gives fortune
to particular persons; and it is hard to say whether arms or learning
have advanced greater numbers. As for the pleasure and delight thereof,
in knowledge there is no satiety. "It is a pleasure incomparable," says
Lucretius, "for the mind of man to be settled, landed, and fortified in
the certainty of truth; and from thence to descry the errors and
perturbations of other men."
Lastly, by learning man excels man in that wherein man excels beasts.
The great dignity of knowledge lies in immortality or continuance, and
the monuments of learning are more durable than the monuments of power.
Have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five hundred years or
more, without the loss of a syllable or letter, during which time
infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been decayed and
demolished?
If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which carries riches
and commodities from place to place, and consociates the most remote
regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are letters to
be magnified? Popular and mistaken judgments will continue as they have
ever been, but so will that also continue whereupon learning has ever
relied, and which fails not.
"Wisdom is justified of her children."
_SECOND BOOK_
The parts of human learning have reference to the three parts of man's
understanding--history to his memory, poetry to his imagination, and
philosophy to his reason. Divine learning receives the same
distribution, so that theology consisteth of history of the Church; of
parables, which are divine poetry; and of holy doctrine or precept. For
prophecy is but divine history, in which the narrative is before the
fact.
History is "natural," "civil," "ecclesiastical," and "literary ";
whereof the first three are extant, but the fourth is deficient. A true
history of learning throughout the ages is wanting. History of Nature is
of three sorts--of Nature in course, of Nature erring or varying, and of
Nature altered or worked; that is, history of creatures, history of
marvels, and history of arts. The first of these is extant in good
perfection; the two others are handled so weakly that I note them as
deficient. The history of arts is of great use towards natural
philosophy such as shall be operative to the benefit of man's life.
Civil history is of three kinds: "memorials," "perfect histories," and
"antiquities," comparable to unfinished, perfect and defaced pictures.
Just or perfect history represents a time, a person, or an action. The
first we call "chronicles"; the second, "lives"; and the third,
"narrations," or "relations."
Of modern histories the greater part are beneath mediocrity. Annals and
journals are a kind of history not to be forgotten; and there is also
ruminated history, wherein political discourse and observations are
mingled with the history of the events themselves. The history of
cosmography is compounded of natural history, civil history, and
mathematics. Ecclesiastical history receives the same divisions with
civil history, but may further be divided into history of the Church,
history of prophecy, and history of Providence. The first of these is
not deficient, only I would that the sincerity of it were proportionate
to its mass and quantity. The history of prophecy, sorting every
prophecy with the event fulfilling the same, is deficient; but the
history of Providence, and the notable examples of God's judgments and
deliverances have passed through the labour of many. Orations, letters,
and brief sayings, or apophthegms, are appendices to history. Thus much
concerning history, which answers to memory.
Poetry refers to the imagination. In respect of its words it is but a
character of style, but in respect of its matter it is nothing else but
feigned history, which may as well be in prose as in verse. The use of
this feigned history is to give some shadow of satisfaction to the mind
of man in those points wherein the nature of things denies it; poetry
serves magnanimity, morality, and delectation. It is divided into
narrative, representative, and allusive or parabolical poetry. In poetry
I can report no deficience; it has sprung up and spread abroad more than
any other kind of learning.
In philosophy, the contemplations of man either penetrate unto God, or
are circumferred to Nature, or are reflected upon himself; whence arise
three knowledges--divine philosophy, natural philosophy, and human
philosophy or humanity. But it is good to erect one universal science,
_Philosophia Prima,_ "primitive" or "summary philosophy," before we come
where the ways part and divide; and this universal philosophy is a
receptacle for all such profitable observations and axioms as do not
fall within the compass of any of the special parts of philosophy or
sciences, but are common and of a higher stage. Divine philosophy, or
natural theology, is that knowledge concerning God which may be obtained
by the contemplation of His creatures; and in this I note an excess
rather than a deficience, because of the extreme prejudice which both
religion and philosophy have received by being mixed together, making an
heretical religion and a fabulous philosophy.
Of natural philosophy there are two parts, the inquisition of causes and
the production of effects; speculative and operative; natural science
and natural prudence. Natural science is divided into physic and
metaphysic. But since I have already defined a summary philosophy, and,
again, a natural theology, both of which are commonly confounded with
metaphysic, what is there remaining for metaphysic? This, that physic
inquires concerning the material and efficient causes, but metaphysic
handles the formal and final causes. So physic is in a middle term
between natural history and metaphysic; for natural history describes
the variety of things, physic the variable or respective causes, and
metaphysic the fixed and constant causes. Of metaphysic I find that it
is partly omitted and partly misplaced. In mathematics, which I place as
a part of metaphysic, I can report no deficience. But natural prudence,
or the operative part of natural philosophy, is very deficient. It were
desirable that there should be a calendar or inventory made of all the
inventions whereof man is possessed, with a note of useful things not
yet invented. A calendar, also, of doubts, and another of popular
errors, are to be desired.
We come now to the knowledge of ourselves--that is, to human philosophy
or humanity. First, a general study of human nature will have regard to
the sympathies and concordances between mind and body. Then, since the
good of man's body is of four kinds--health, beauty, strength, and
pleasure--the knowledge of the body is also of four kinds--medicine,
decoration or cosmetic, athletic, and the art voluptuary. Medicine has
been more professed than laboured, and more laboured than advanced, the
labour having been rather in circle than in progression.
As for human knowledge concerning the mind, it has two parts, one
inquiring of the substance or nature of the soul, and the other of its
faculties or functions. I believe that the first of these may be more
soundly inquired than it has been, yet I hold that in the end it must be
bounded by religion. It has two appendices, concerning divination and
fascination; these have rather vapoured forth fables than kindled truth.
The knowledge respecting the faculties of the mind is of two kinds, the
one respecting understanding and reason, and the other respecting will,
appetite, and affection, the imagination being active in both provinces.
The intellectual arts are four--inquiry or invention, examination or
judgment, custody or memory, and elocution or tradition; and these are
severally divided into various sciences and arts. The knowledge of the
appetite and will, or moral philosophy, leading to the culture and
regiment of the mind, is very deficient.
Civil knowledge has three parts--conversation, negotiation, and
government--since man seeks in society comfort, use, and protection. The
first of these is well laboured, the second and third are deficient.
Thus we conclude human philosophy, and turn to the sacred and inspired
divinity, the port of all men's labours and peregrinations.
Sacred theology, or divinity, is grounded only upon the word and oracle
of God, and not upon the light of Nature. Herein there has not been
sufficiently inquired the true limits and use of reason in spiritual
things. Exposition of Scriptures, on the other hand, is not deficient.
Divinity has four main branches--faith, manners, liturgy, and
government--in which I can find no ground vacant and unsown, so diligent
have men been, either in sowing of seed or tares.
* * * * *
GEORGE BERKELEY
PRINCIPLES OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE
George Berkeley, the metaphysician, was born on March 12,
1685, near Thomastown, Kilkenny, the son of a collector of
revenue. He entered Trinity College, Dublin, at the age of
fifteen, and was admitted Fellow in 1707. In that year he
published two mathematical essays; two years later, his
"Theory of Vision," and in 1710 his "Principles of Human
Knowledge." In 1713, in London, where he had published further
philosophical papers, he formed the acquaintance of Steele,
Swift, and Pope. After travels in Europe he became chaplain to
the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland in 1721, and a few years after
emigrated to Newport, Rhode Island, with a view to the
establishment of a college in Bermuda for the education of
Indians. This scheme fell through, because of the failure of
the promised government support. Berkeley returned to London,
and in 1734, by desire of Queen Caroline, was consecrated
Bishop of Cloyne, in Ireland. Here he lived until 1752, but
spent his last months in retirement at Oxford, where he died
on January 14, 1753. Berkeley's "Principles of Human
Knowledge" is one of the most eminent of that sequence of
metaphysical systems which, beginning with Descartes,
constitutes what is known as modern philosophy.
_I.--THE ANALYSIS OF PERCEPTION_