In the seventh chapter I have shown that, in the theoretical sphere,
procedure based upon _conceptions_ suffices for mediocre achievements
only, while great achievements, on the other hand, demand that we should
draw from perception itself as the primary source of all knowledge. In the
practical sphere, however, the converse is the case. Here determination by
what is perceived is the way of the brutes, but is unworthy of man, who
has _conceptions_ to guide his conduct, and is thus emancipated from the
power of what is actually perceptibly present, to which the brute is
unconditionally given over. In proportion as a man makes good this
prerogative his conduct may be called _rational_, and only in this sense
can we speak of _practical reason_, not in the Kantian sense, the
inadmissibility of which I have thoroughly exposed in my prize essay on
the foundation of morals.
It is not easy, however, to let oneself be determined by _conceptions_
alone; for the directly present external world, with its perceptible
reality, intrudes itself forcibly even on the strongest mind. But it is
just in conquering this impression, in destroying its illusion, that the
human spirit shows its worth and greatness. Thus if incitements to lust
and pleasure leave it unaffected, if the threats and fury of enraged
enemies do not shake it, if the entreaties of erring friends do not make
its purpose waver, and the delusive forms with which preconcerted plots
surround it leave it unmoved, if the scorn of fools and of the vulgar herd
does not disturb it nor trouble it as to its own worth, then it seems to
stand under the influence of a spirit-world, visible to it alone (and this
is the world of conceptions), before which that perceptibly present world
which lies open to all dissolves like a phantom. But, on the other hand,
what gives to the external world and visible reality their great power
over the mind is their nearness and directness. As the magnetic needle,
which is kept in its position by the combined action of widely distributed
forces of nature embracing the whole earth, can yet be perturbed and set
in violent oscillation by a small piece of iron, if only it comes quite
close to it, so even a great mind can sometimes be disconcerted and
perturbed by trifling events and insignificant men, if only they affect it
very closely, and the deliberate purpose can be for the moment shaken by a
trivial but immediately present counter motive. For the influence of the
motives is subject to a law which is directly opposed to the law according
to which weights act on a balance, and in consequence of it a very small
motive, which, however, lies very near to us, can outweigh one which in
itself is much stronger, but which only affects us from a distance. But it
is this quality of the mind, by reason of which it allows itself to be
determined in accordance with this law, and does not withdraw itself from
it by the strength of actual practical reason, which the ancients denoted
by _animi impotentia_, which really signifies _ratio regendæ voluntatis
impotens_. Every _emotion_ (_animi perturbatio_) simply arises from the
fact that an idea which affects our will comes so excessively near to us
that it conceals everything else from us, and we can no longer see
anything but it, so that for the moment we become incapable of taking
account of things of another kind. It would be a valuable safeguard
against this if we were to bring ourselves to regard the present, by the
assistance of imagination, as if it were past, and should thus accustom
our apperception to the epistolary style of the Romans. Yet conversely we
are very well able to regard what is long past as so vividly present that
old emotions which have long been asleep are thereby reawakened in their
full strength. Thus also no one would be irritated or disconcerted by a
misfortune, a disappointment, if reason always kept present to him what
man really is: the most needy of creatures, daily and hourly abandoned to
innumerable misfortunes, great and small, το δειλοτατον ζωον, who has
therefore to live in constant care and fear. Herodotus already says, “Παν
εστι ανθρωπος συμφορα” (_homo totus est calamitas_).
The application of reason to practice primarily accomplishes this. It
reconstructs what is one-sided and defective in knowledge of mere
perception, and makes use of the contrasts or oppositions which it
presents, to correct each other, so that thus the objectively true result
is arrived at. For example, if we look simply at the bad action of a man
we will condemn him; on the other hand, if we consider merely the need
that moved him to it, we will compassionate him: reason, by means of its
conceptions, weighs the two, and leads to the conclusion that he must be
restrained, restricted, and curbed by a proportionate punishment.
I am again reminded here of Seneca’s saying: “_Si vis tibi omnia
subjicere, te subjice rationi_.” Since, however, as was shown in the
fourth book, the nature of suffering is positive, and that of pleasure
negative, he who takes abstract or rational knowledge as the rule of his
conduct, and therefore constantly reflects on its consequences and on the
future, will very frequently have to practise _sustine et abstine_, for in
order to obtain the life that is most free from pain he generally
sacrifices its keenest joys and pleasures, mindful of Aristotle’s “ὁ
φρονιμος το αλυπον διωκει, ου το ἡδυ” (_quod dolore vacat, non quod __
suave est, persequitur vir prudens_). Therefore with him the future
constantly borrows from the present, instead of the present borrowing from
the future, as is the case with a frivolous fool, who thus becomes
impoverished and finally bankrupt. In the case of the former reason must,
for the most part, assume the _rôle_ of a churlish mentor, and unceasingly
call for renunciations, without being able to promise anything in return,
except a fairly painless existence. This rests on the fact that reason, by
means of its conceptions, surveys the _whole_ of life, whose outcome, in
the happiest conceivable case, can be no other than what we have said.
When this striving after a painless existence, so far as it might be
attainable by the application of and strict adherence to rational
reflection and acquired knowledge of the true nature of life, was carried
out with the greatest consistency and to the utmost extreme, it produced
cynicism, from which stoicism afterwards proceeded. I wish briefly here to
bring this out more fully for the sake of establishing more firmly the
concluding exposition of our first book.
All ancient moral systems, with the single exception of that of Plato,
were guides to a happy life. Accordingly in them the end of virtue was
entirely in this life, not beyond death. For to them it is only the right
path to a truly happy life; and on this account the wise choose it. Hence
arise those lengthy debates chiefly preserved for us by Cicero, those keen
and constantly renewed investigations, whether virtue quite alone and in
itself is really sufficient for a happy life, or whether this further
requires some external condition; whether the virtuous and wise may also
be happy on the rack and the wheel, or in the bull of Phalaris; or whether
it does not go as far as this. For certainly this would be the touchstone
of an ethical system of this kind; the practice of it must give happiness
directly and unconditionally. If it cannot do this it does not accomplish
what it ought, and must be rejected. It is therefore with truth and in
accordance with the Christian point of view that Augustine prefaces his
exposition of the moral systems of the ancients (_De Civ. Dei_, Lib. xix.
c. 1) with the explanation: “_Exponenda sunt nobis argumenta mortalium,
quibus sibi ipsi beatitudinem facere_ IN HUJUS VITÆ INFELICITATE _moliti
sunt; ut ab eorum rebus vanis spes nostra quid differat clarescat. De
finibus bonorum et malorum multa inter se philosophi disputarunt; quam
quæstionem maxima intentione versantes, invenire conati sunt, quid
efficiat hominem beatum: illud enim est finis bonorum._” I wish to place
beyond all doubt the eudæmonistic end which we have ascribed to all
ancient ethics by several express statements of the ancients themselves.
Aristotle says in the “_Eth. Magna_,” i. 4: “Ἡ ευδαιμονια εν τῳ εν ζῃν
εστι, το δε ευ ζῃν εν τῳ κατα τας αρετας ζῃν.” (_Felicitas in bene vivendo
posita est: verum bene vivere est in eo positum, ut secundum virtutem
vivamus_), with which may be compared “_Eth. Nicom._,” i. 5. “_Cic.
Tusc._,” v. 1: “_Nam, quum ea causa impulerit eos, qui primi se ad
philosophiæ studia contulerunt, ut, omnibus rebus posthabitis, totos se in
optimo vitæ statu exquirendo collocarent; profecto spe beate vivendi
tantam in eo studio curam operamque posuerunt_”. According to Plutarch
(_De Repugn. Stoic._, c. xviii.) Chrysippus said: “Το κατα κακιαν ζῃν τῳ
κακοδαιμονως ζῃν ταυτον εστι.” (_Vitiose vivere idem est guod vivere
infeliciter._) Ibid., c. 26: “Ἡ φρονησις ουχ ἑτερον εστι της ευδαιμονιας
καθ᾽ ἑαυτο, αλλ᾽ ευδαιμονια.” (_Prudentia nihil differt a felicitate,
estque ipsa adeo felicitas._) “Stob. Ecl.,” Lib. ii. c. 7: “Τελος δε φασιν
ειναι το ευδαιμονειν, ὁυ ἑνεκα παντα πραττεται.” (_Finem esse dicunt
felicitatem, cujus causa fiunt omnia._) “Ευδαιμονιαν συνωνυμειν τῳ τελει
λεγουσι.” (_Finem bonorum et felicitatem synonyma esse dicunt._) “Arrian
Diss. Epict.,” i. 4: “Ἡ αρετη ταυτην εχει την επαγγελιαν, ευδαιμονιαν
ποιησαι.” (_Virtus profitetur, se felicitatem præstare._) Sen., Ep. 90:
“_Ceterum (sapientia) ad beatum statum tendit, illo ducit, __ illo vias
aperit_.”—Id., Ep. 108: “_Illud admoneo auditionem philosophorum,
lectionemque, ad propositum beatæ vitæ trahendum._”
The ethics of the Cynics also adopted this end of the happiest life, as
the Emperor Julian expressly testifies (Orat. vi.): “Της Κυνικης δε
φιλοσοφιας σκοπος μεν εστι και τελος, ὡσπερ δη και πασης φιλοσοφιας, το
ευδαιμονειν; το δε ευδαιμονειν εν τῳ ζῃν κατα φυσιν, αλλα μη προς τας των
πολλων δοξας.” (_Cynicæ philosophiæ ut etiam omnis philosophiæ, scopus et
finis est feliciter vivere: felicitas vitæ autem in eo posita est, ut
secundum naturam vivatur, nec vero secundum opiniones multitudinis._) Only
the Cynics followed quite a peculiar path to this end, a path directly
opposed to the ordinary one—the path of extreme privation. They start from
the insight that the motions of the will which are brought about by the
objects which attract and excite it, and the wearisome, and for the most
part vain, efforts to attain these, or, if they are attained, the fear of
losing them, and finally the loss itself, produce far greater pain than
the want of all these objects ever can. Therefore, in order to attain to
the life that is most free from pain, they chose the path of the extremest
destitution, and fled from all pleasures as snares through which one was
afterwards handed over to pain. But after this they could boldly scorn
happiness and its caprices. This is the _spirit of cynicism_. Seneca
distinctly expresses it in the eighth chapter, “_De Tranquilitate Animi_:”
“_Cogitandum est, quanto levior dolor sit, non habere, quam perdere: et
intelligemus paupertati eo minorem tormentorum, quo minorem damnorum esse
materiam._” Then: “_Tolerabilius est, faciliusque, non acquirere, quam
amittere.... Diogenes effecit, ne quid sibi eripi posset, ... qui se
fortuitis omnibus exuit.... Videtur mihi dixisse; age tuum negotium,
fortuna: nihil apud Diogenem jam tuum est._” The parallel passage to this
last sentence is the quotation of Stobæus (_Ecl._ ii. 7): “Διογενης εφη
νομιζειν ὁραν την Τυχην ενορωσαν αυτον και λεγουσαν; τουτον δ᾽ ου δυναμαι
βαλεειν κυνα λυσσητηρα.” (_Diogenes credere se dixit, videre Fortunam,
ipsum intuentem, ac dicentem: aut hunc non potui tetigisse canem
rabiosum._) The same spirit of cynicism is also shown in the epitaph on
Diogenes, in Suidas, under the word Φιλισκος, and in “Diogenes Laertius,”
vi. 2:
“Γηρασκει μεν χαλκος ὑπο χρονου; αλλα σον ουτι
Κυδος ὁ πας αιων, Διογενης, καθελει;
Μουνος επει βιοτης αυταρκεα δοξαν εδειξας
Θνητοις, και ζωης οιμον ελαφροτατην.”
(_Æra quidem absumit tempus, sed tempore numquam_
_Interitura tua est gloria, Diogenes:_
_Quandoquidem ad vitam miseris mortalibus æquam_
_Monstrata est facilis, te duce, et ampla via._)
Accordingly the fundamental thought of cynicism is that life in its
simplest and nakedest form, with the hardships that belong to it by
nature, is the most endurable, and is therefore to be chosen; for every
assistance, convenience, gratification, and pleasure by means of which men
seek to make life more agreeable only brings with it new and greater ills
than originally belonged to it. Therefore we may regard the following
sentence as the expression of the kernel of the doctrine of cynicism:
“Διογενης εβοᾳ πολλακις λεγων, τον των ανθωπων βιον ραδιον ὑπο των θεων
δεδοσθαι, αποκεκρυφθαι δε αυτον ζητουντων μελιπηκτα και μυρα και τα
παραπλησια.” (_Diogenes clamabat sæpius, hominum vitam facilem a diis
dari, verum occultari illam quærentibus mellita cibaria, unguenta et his
similia._) (_Diog., Laert._, vi. 2.) And further: “Δεον, αντι των αχρηστων
πονων, τους κατα φυσιν ἑλομενους, ζῃν ευδαιμονως; παρα την ανοιαν
κακοδαιμονουσι.... τον αυτον χαρακτηρα του βιου λεγων διεξαγειν, ὁνπερ και
Ἡρακλης, μηδεν ελευθηριας προκρινων.” (_Quum igitur, repudiatis inutilibus
laboribus, naturales insequi, ac vivere beate debeamus, per summam
dementiam infelices sumus.... eandem vitæ formam, quam Hercules, se vivere
affirmans, nihil libertati præferens. Ibid._) Therefore the old, genuine
Cynics, Antisthenes, Diogenes, Krates, and their disciples had once for
all renounced every possession, all conveniences and pleasures, in order
to escape for ever from the troubles and cares, the dependence and the
pains, which are inevitably bound up with them and are not counterbalanced
by them. Through the bare satisfaction of the most pressing wants and the
renunciation of everything superfluous they thought they would come off
best. Accordingly they contented themselves with what in Athens or Corinth
was to be had almost for nothing, such as lupines, water, an old
threadbare cloak, a wallet, and a staff. They begged occasionally, as far
as was necessary to supply such wants, but they never worked. Yet they
accepted absolutely nothing that exceeded the wants referred to above.
Independence in the widest sense was their aim. They occupied their time
in resting, going about, talking with all men, and much mocking, laughing,
and joking; their characteristic was carelessness and great cheerfulness.
Since now in this manner of life they had no aims of their own, no
purposes or ends to pursue, thus were lifted above the sphere of human
action, and at the same time always enjoyed complete leisure, they were
admirably fitted, as men of proved strength of mind, to be the advisers
and admonishers of the rest. Therefore Apuleius says (_Florid._, iv.):
“_Crates, ut lar familiaris apud homines suæ ætatis cultus est. Nulla
domus ei unquam clausa erat: nec erat patrisfamilias tam absconditum
secretum, quin eo tempestive Crates interveniret, litium omnium et
jurgiorum inter propinquos disceptator et arbiter._” Thus in this, as in
so many other respects, they show a great likeness to the mendicant friars
of modern times, that is, to the better and more genuine among them, whose
ideal may be seen in the Capucine Christoforo in Manzoni’s famous romance.
Yet this resemblance lies only in the effects, not in the cause. They
agree in the result, but the fundamental thought of the two is quite
different. With the friars, as with the Sannyâsis, who are akin to them,
it is an aim which transcends life; but with the Cynics it is only the
conviction that it is easier to reduce their wishes and their wants to the
_minimum_, than to attain to the _maximum_ in their satisfaction, which
indeed is impossible, for with their satisfaction the wishes and wants
grow _ad infinitum_; therefore, in order to reach the goal of all ancient
ethics, the greatest happiness possible in this life, they took the path
of renunciation as the shortest and easiest: “ὁθεν και τον Κυνισμον
ειρηκασιν συντομον επ᾽ αρετην ὁδον.” (_Unde Cynismum dixere compendiosam
ad virtutem viam._) _Diog. Laert._, vi. 9. The fundamental difference
between the spirit of cynicism and that of asceticism comes out very
clearly in the humility which is essential to the ascetic, but is so
foreign to the Cynic that, on the contrary, he is distinguished beyond
everything else for pride and scorn:—
“_Sapiens uno minor est Jove, dives,_
_Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum._”—_Hor._
On the other hand, the view of life held by the Cynics agrees in spirit
with that of J. J. Rousseau as he expounds it in the “_Discours sur
l’Origine de l’Inégalité_.” For he also would wish to lead us back to the
crude state of nature, and regards the reduction of our wants to the
minimum as the surest path to happiness. For the rest, the Cynics were
exclusively _practical_ philosophers: at least no account of their
theoretical philosophy is known to me.
Now the Stoics proceeded from them in this way—they changed the practical
into the theoretical. They held that the _actual_ dispensing with
everything that can be done without is not demanded, but that it is
sufficient that we should regard possessions and pleasures constantly as
_dispensable_, and as held in the hand of chance; for then the actual
deprivation of them, if it should chance to occur, would neither be
unexpected nor fall heavily. One might always have and enjoy everything;
only one must ever keep present the conviction of the worthlessness and
dispensableness of these good things on the one hand, and of their
uncertainty and perishableness on the other, and therefore prize them all
very little, and be always ready to give them up. Nay more, he who must
actually dispense with these things in order not to be moved by them,
thereby shows that in his heart he holds them to be truly good things,
which one must put quite out of sight if one is not to long after them.
The wise man, on the other hand, knows that they are not good things at
all, but rather perfectly indifferent things, αδιαφορα, in any case
προηγμενα. Therefore if they present themselves he will accept them, but
yet is always ready to let them go again, if chance, to which they belong,
should demand them back; for they are των ουκ εφ᾽ ἡμιν. In this sense,
Epictetus, chap. vii., says that the wise man, like one who has landed
from a ship, &c., will also let himself be comforted by a wife or a child,
but yet will always be ready, whenever the captain calls, to let them go
again. Thus the Stoics perfected the theory of equanimity and independence
at the cost of the practice, for they reduced everything to a mental
process, and by arguments, such as are presented in the first chapter of
Epictetus, sophisticated themselves into all the amenities of life. But in
doing so they left out of account that everything to which one is
accustomed becomes a need, and therefore can only be given up with pain;
that the will does not allow itself to be played with, cannot enjoy
without loving the pleasures; that a dog does not remain indifferent if
one draws a piece of meat through its mouth, and neither does a wise man
if he is hungry; and that there is no middle path between desiring and
renouncing. But they believed that they satisfied their principles if,
sitting at a luxurious Roman table, they left no dish untasted, yet at the
same time protested that they were each and all of them mere προηγμενα,
not αγαθα; or in plain English, if they eat, drank, and were merry, yet
gave no thanks to God for it all, but rather made fastidious faces, and
persisted in boldly asserting that they gained nothing whatever from the
whole feast. This was the expedient of the Stoics; they were therefore
mere braggarts, and stand to the Cynics in much the same relation as
well-fed Benedictines and Augustines stand to Franciscans and Capucines.
Now the more they neglected practice, the more they refined the theory. I
shall here add a few proofs and supplementary details to the exposition of
it given at the close of our first book.
If we search in the writings of the Stoics which remain to us, all of
which are unsystematically composed, for the ultimate ground of that
irrefragible equanimity which is unceasingly demanded of us, we find no
other than the knowledge that the course of the world is entirely
independent of our will, and consequently, that the evil which befalls us
is inevitable. If we have regulated our claims by a correct insight into
this, then mourning, rejoicing, fearing, and hoping are follies of which
we are no longer capable. Further, especially in the commentaries of
Arrian, it is surreptitiously assumed that all that is ουκ εφ᾽ ἡμιν
(_i.e._, does not depend upon us) is at once also ου προς ἡμας (_i.e._,
does not concern us). Yet it remains true that all the good things of life
are in the power of chance, and therefore whenever it makes use of this
power to deprive us of them, we are unhappy if we have placed our
happiness in them. From this unworthy fate we are, in the opinion of the
Stoics, delivered by the right use of reason, by virtue of which we regard
all these things, never as ours, but only as lent to us for an indefinite
time; only thus can we never really lose them. Therefore Seneca says (Ep.
98): “_Si, quid humanarum rerum varietas possit, cogitaverit, ante quam
senserit_,” and Diogenes Laertius (vii. 1. 87): “Ισον δε εστι το κατ᾽
αρετην ζῃν τῳ κατ᾽ εμπειριαν των φυσει συμβαινοντων ζῃν.” (_Secundum
virtutem vivere idem est, quod secundum experientiam eorum, quæ secundum
naturam accidunt, vivere._) The passage in Arrian’s “Discourses of
Epictetus,” B. iii., c. 24, 84-89, is particularly in point here; and
especially, as a proof of what I have said in this reference in § 16 of
the first volume, the passage: “Τουτο γαρ εστι το αιτιον τοις ανθροποις
παντων των κακων το τας προληψεις τας κοινας μη δυνασθαι εφαρμοζειν τοις
επι μερους,” Ibid. iv., 1. 42. (_Hæc enim causa est hominibus omnium
malorum, quod anticipationes generales rebus singularibus accommodare non
possunt._) Similarly the passage in “Marcus Aurelius” (iv. 29): “Ει ξενος
κοσμου ὁ μη γνωριζων τα εν αυτῳ οντα, ουχ ἡττον ξενος και ο μη γνωριζων τα
γιγνομενα;” that is: “If he is a stranger to the universe who does not
know what is in it, no less is he a stranger who does not know how things
go on in it.” Also Seneca’s eleventh chapter, “_De Tranquilitate Animi_,”
is a complete proof of this view. The opinion of the Stoics amounts on the
whole to this, that if a man has watched for a while the juggling illusion
of happiness and then uses his reason, he must recognise both the rapid
changes of the dice and the intrinsic worthlessness of the counters, and
therefore must henceforth remain unmoved. Taken generally the Stoical
point of view may be thus expressed: our suffering always arises from the
want of agreement between our wishes and the course of the world.
Therefore one of these two must be changed and adapted to the other. Since
now the course of things is not in our power (ουκ εφ᾽ ἡμιν), we must
direct our volitions and desires according to the course of things: for
the will alone is εφ᾽ ἡμιν. This adaptation of volition to the course of
the external world, thus to the nature of things, is very often understood
under the ambiguous κατα φυσιν ζην. See the “Discourses of Epictetus,” ii.
17, 21, 22. Seneca also denotes this point of view (Ep. 119) when he says:
“_Nihil interest, utrum non desideres, an habeas. Summa rei in utroque est
eadem: non torqueberis._” Also Cicero (_Tusc._ iv. 26) by the words:
“_Solum habere velle, summa dementia est._” Similarly Arrian (iv. 1. 175):
“Ου γαρ εκπληρωσει των επιθυμουμενων ελευθερια παρασκευαζεται, αλλα
ανασκευη της επιθυμιας.” (_Non enim explendis desideriis libertas
comparatur, sed tollenda cupiditate._)
The collected quotations in the “_Historia Philosophiæ Græco-Romanæ_” of
Ritter and Preller may be taken as proofs of what I have said, in the
place referred to above, about the ὁμολογουμενως ζῃν of the Stoics. Also
the saying of Seneca (Ep. 31, and again Ep. 74): “_Perfecta virtus est
æqualitas et tenor vitæ per omnia consonans sibi._” The following passage
of Seneca’s indicates the spirit of the Stoa generally (Ep. 92): “_Quid
est beata vita? Securitas et perpetua tranquillitas. Hanc dabit animi
magnitudo, dabit constantia bene judicati tenax._” A systematical study of
the Stoics will convince every one that the end of their ethics, like that
of the ethics of Cynicism from which they sprang, is really nothing else
than a life as free as possible from pain, and therefore as happy as
possible. Whence it follows that the Stoical morality is only a special
form of _Eudæmonism_. It has not, like the Indian, the Christian, and even
the Platonic ethics, a metaphysical tendency, a transcendental end, but a
completely immanent end, attainable in this life; the steadfast serenity
(αταραξια) and unclouded happiness of the wise man, whom nothing can
disturb. Yet it cannot be denied that the later Stoics, especially Arrian,
sometimes lose sight of this end, and show a really ascetic tendency,
which is to be attributed to the Christian and Oriental spirit in general
which was then already spreading. If we consider closely and seriously the
goal of Stoicism, that αταραξια, we find in it merely a hardening and
insensibility to the blow of fate which a man attains to because he keeps
ever present to his mind the shortness of life, the emptiness of pleasure,
the instability of happiness, and has also discerned that the difference
between happiness and unhappiness is very much less than our anticipation
of both is wont to represent. But this is yet no state of happiness; it is
only the patient endurance of sufferings which one has foreseen as
irremediable. Yet magnanimity and worth consist in this, that one should
bear silently and patiently what is irremediable, in melancholy peace,
remaining always the same, while others pass from rejoicing to despair and
from despair to rejoicing. Accordingly one may also conceive of Stoicism
as a spiritual hygiene, in accordance with which, just as one hardens the
body against the influences of wind and weather, against fatigue and
exertion, one has also to harden one’s mind against misfortune, danger,
loss, injustice, malice, perfidy, arrogance, and the folly of men.
I remark further, that the καθγκοντα of the Stoics, which Cicero
translates _officia_, signify as nearly as possible _Obliegenheiten_, or
that which it befits the occasion to do; English, _incumbencies_; Italian,
_quel che tocca a me di fare, o di lasciare_, thus what _it behoves_ a
reasonable man to do. Cf. _Diog. Laert._, vii. 1. 109. Finally, the
_pantheism_ of the Stoics, though absolutely inconsistent with many an
exhortation of Arrian, is most distinctly expressed by Seneca: “_Quid est
Deus? Mens universi. Quid est Deus? Quod vides totum, et quod non vides
totum. Sic demum magnitudo sua illi redditur, qua nihil majus excogitari
potest: si solus est omnia, opus suum et extra, et intra tenet._” (_Quæst.
Natur._ 1, _præfatio_ 12.)