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217. In the preceding chapter we have discussed the universe from the scientific standpoint. ‘Such,’ say the Stoics, ‘we find that the universe is; such and such it was in the beginning, and such it will be to the end.’ Their conclusions are reached by observation, classification, and analysis; and yet not entirely by these, for we must admit that there is also employed that power of scientific imagination which the ancients call ‘divination.’ Still on the whole the investigation has been that of the student, and the method that of speculation or contemplation dissociated from any consideration of the usefulness of the results attained. In the study we now undertake all this is changed. Our philosophy proceeds to assert that the universe is good, that it is directed by wise purpose, and that it claims the reverence and obedience of mankind. It calls upon its adherents to view the world with moral approval, and to find in it an ethical standard. Such conclusions cannot be reached by purely discursive reason; but they are such as are everywhere sought by practical men. They appeal to a side of human nature different from that which passes judgment on the conclusions previously reached. From the first position ‘the universe is’ to the second ‘the universe is good’ the step is slippery. We are on the dizzy heights of philosophical speculation, where the most experienced climbers find their way they know not how, and can hardly hold out a hand to help those who are in distress.

The Stoic teachers did not perhaps always follow the same track, and now and again they stumbled on the way. Reasoning often proved a weak support, but resolution carried them through somehow to the refuges on which their eyes were all along set.

218. To the problem of the meaning and government of the universe three answers were current in the epoch with which we are dealing. Either all things take place by fate; or the world is ruled by a divine providence; or else fortune is supreme[1]. These three terms are not always mutually exclusive: Virgil speaks commonly of the ‘fates of the gods[2]’; and ‘fortune’ is frequently personified, not only in common speech, as when the Romans spoke of the ‘fortune of the city,’ but even by a philosopher like Lucretius, who speaks of ‘Fortune the pilot[3],’ with a half-humorous abandonment of exactitude. The Stoics have the merit of not only recognising fully these three powers, but also of using the terms with relative consistency. By fate then we mean an abstract necessity, an impersonal tendency, according to which events flow; by providence a personal will; by fortune the absence of both tendency and purpose, which results in a constant shifting to and fro, as when a man stands upon a ball, and is carried this way and that[4]. All explanations, both of general tendencies and of particular events, must ultimately resolve themselves into one or other of these three; every constructive system must necessarily aim at shewing that the three ultimately coincide, and that philosophy is the guardian and guide of mankind in the understanding of their relations one to another[5].

219. The Stoics hold that ‘all things happen by fate[6].’ To this conclusion they are brought by the same reasoning that moved the Chaldaeans. The visible universe is, and has motion. The heavenly bodies move incessantly in their orbits; there is no force either within or without them that can turn them aside a hair’s breadth, or make their pace quicker or slower. No prayers of men, no prerogatives of gods can make them change[7]. Without cause there is no effect; and each effect is in its turn a new cause. Thus is constructed an endless chain, in which all things living and inanimate are alike bound. If a man knew all the causes that exist, he could trace out all the consequences. What will be, will be; what will not be, cannot be. This first Stoic interpretation of the universe is that of Determinism; it reiterates and drives home the principle that is here our starting-point, ‘the universe is.’ ‘Chrysippus, Posidonius, and Zeno say that all things take place according to fate; and fate is the linked cause of things that are, or the system by which the universe is conducted[8].’ This ‘fate’ is only another name for ‘necessity[9]’; fates cannot be changed[10].

220. The doctrine of fate appears to contradict directly the belief in human free will, and to lead up to the practical doctrine of laziness (ἀργὸς λόγος, ignava ratio). Once we allow it to be true that ‘what will be, will be,’ it becomes useless to make any effort. As at the present time, this argument was familiar in cases of sickness. One says to the sick person, ‘if it is your fate to recover, then you will recover whether you call in the physician or not; and if it is your fate not to recover, then you will not recover in either case. But it is your fate either to recover or not to recover; therefore it will be useless to call in the physician.’ To which another will reply: ‘you may as well argue that if it is your fate to beget a son, you will beget one equally whether you consort with your wife or not; therefore it will be useless to consort with your wife[11].’ With such verbal disputes Chrysippus delighted to deal; his reply to the ‘lazy argument’ was that certain things go together by fate (iuncta fato, confatalia)[12]. Thus in the above cases it may be determined by fate that you should both call in a physician and recover, both consort with your wife and beget a son.

Some one then replies, ‘No, they will not, even if we sleep, if it is predestined that the dock be not seized.’ To such an objection any one can give the right answer: ‘all these things are equally predestined, and go together by fate. There is no such thing as a watch kept by sleepers, a victory won by runaways, or a harvest reaped except after sowing good clean soil[14].’

221. The doctrine of fate also seems to conflict with some of the commonest forms of speech. For if it is correct to say ‘Either this will happen, or it will not happen,’ it seems incorrect to say ‘it may happen’; and still more of the past, since we must admit of any event that ‘it has happened’ or ‘it has not happened,’ there seems no room for the statement ‘it might have happened.’ Chrysippus however maintains that the words ‘may’ and ‘might’ are correctly used, or (in other words) that we may assert that it is or was ‘possible’ for things to happen, whether or not they will happen or have happened. For example, the pearl here is breakable, and may be broken, though fate has ordained that it never will be broken. Cypselus might not have been tyrant of Corinth, though the oracle at Delphi declared a thousand years before the time that he would be[15]. This view had been sharply contested by Diodorus the Megarian; and the controversy was summed up in the ‘master argument.’ This is stated as follows: there are three propositions in conflict with one another in the sense that if any two of them are true, the third is false. They are these: (i) every past event is necessary; (ii) the impossible cannot follow on the possible; (iii) there are things possible that neither are nor will be true. Diodorus accepted the first two; he therefore drew the conclusion that there is nothing possible except that which is or will be true; or in other words he denied the existence of any category of ‘things possible’ distinct from that of facts past or future.

Cleanthes and Antipater accepted the second and third propositions: Chrysippus accepted the first and third, but denied the second[16]; that is he admitted that the possible thing (e.g. the breaking of the pearl) might become the impossible because fate had decided to the contrary. The choice intimates much; it shows that the Stoics, however strongly they assert the rule of fate or necessity, intend so to interpret these terms as to reconcile them with the common use of words, that is, with the inherited belief in divine and human will, breaking through the chain of unending cause and effect[17].

222. The next step is professedly taken by way of definition of the word ‘fate’ (εἱμαρμένη, fatum). Exactly as the stuff of the universe, fire, has been explained to be no mere passive or destructive element, but one possessed of creative force and reason, so is fate declared to be no blind or helpless sequence of events, but an active and wise power which regulates the universe. Fate is in fact but another name for the Logos or World-reason. On this point all Stoic teachers are in the main agreed. ‘Fate,’ said Zeno, ‘is a power which stirs matter by the same laws and in the same way; it may equally well be called providence or nature[18].’ Chrysippus gives us several alternative definitions: ‘the essence of fate is a spiritual force, duly ordering the universe[19]’; it is ‘the Logos of the universe[20],’ or ‘the law of events providentially ordered in the universe[21]’; or, ‘the law by which things that have been have been, that are are, that will be will be[22].’ But an important difference appears between the views of Cleanthes and Chrysippus. They are agreed that all that happens by providence also happens by fate. But Cleanthes will not allow, as Chrysippus is prepared to do, that all things that happen by fate happen providentially[23]. With Cleanthes the conception of fate is wider than that of providence, just as in Virgil the fates are more powerful than Jove. Cleanthes, being deeply conscious of the evil existing in the universe, refused to hold providence responsible for it. Chrysippus on the other hand identifies fate with the deity[24].

223. Providence (πρόνοια, providentia) differs from fate, if at all, by including an element of personality. It is a principal dogma of the Stoics that ‘the universe is ruled by providence.’ Cicero indeed assures us that the word ‘providence’ is merely an abbreviation for ‘the providence of the gods,’ and that the dogma really asserts that ‘the universe is ruled by the gods with foresight’; and Balbus, the Stoic advocate, in his treatise, rebukes his opponent Cotta for having travestied the Stoic doctrine by speaking of providence as ‘a fortune-telling hag,’ as though she were some kind of goddess governing the world[25]. But the travesty is at least as instructive as the exposition. If ‘providence’ is on the one hand interpreted as God’s providence[26], it is on the other hand equivalent to Nature[27], and again to the Mind of the universe; it is the Logos, the universal Law, the creative force[28]; not merely an attribute, but a manifestation and bodily presentment of deity. After the final conflagration three joining in one will be left, Zeus, providence, and the creative fire[29]. Lastly, if we consider the process of logical demonstration, it is from the reality of providence that the Stoics deduce the existence of the gods; only from the standpoint of dogmatic instruction is the order reversed.

224. The work and functions of Providence are open to our view, for it has an aim and pathway of its own[30]. Its first aim is to create a universe capable of enduring; next, it makes that universe complete; thirdly, it endows it with every beauty and excellence[31]. The beauty of the world is a favourite theme upon which Stoic orators discourse at length; this is, in their view, the best world that could possibly have been created[32]. This sense of beauty appears to be derived from two sources, the admiration and awe felt in contemplating the sky, the sun moon and stars moving in it, lofty mountains, rushing rivers, and deep caves[33]; and the gentler delight stirred by the sight of the fertile field, the vine-clad hill, the river-pathway, the flocks and herds, which all subserve the convenience of man. Thus from beauty we pass to usefulness, and the Stoics now maintain that the world has been created and is maintained for the use of man[34]. In strict language, however, we must say that the universe is made for the use of rational beings, that is, for gods and men[35], that it is a home or city in which gods and men alike have a share[36]. From the protection of providence the animals, according to the Stoic view, are in principle entirely excluded. Yet it did not escape notice that nature has often provided for their comfort in particulars, giving them instincts that enable them to maintain life, and an outward shape conformable to the conditions of their existence[37].

And Seneca especially found that man was apt to swell himself too greatly, as if that world were made for him, of which only a small part is adapted for him to dwell in, and where day and night, summer and winter would continue of themselves, even if no man observed them[38]. On the other hand zealots like Chrysippus worked out the detailed application of this theory in a way that provoked the amusement of their critics[39].

225. Providence cares for mankind in general, and therefore for the parts of mankind, the various continents, nations, and cities. The Stoics are also inclined to hold that it cares for the individual[40]. The difficulty of this belief is great. Busy cities are overthrown by the earthquake; the crops of the careful farmer are blasted by the hailstorm; Socrates is condemned to death by the Athenians; Pythagoras, Zeno and Antiphon meet with violent ends. Yet we may not think that in any of these cases the sufferers were hated or neglected by the gods; it is rather an inevitable necessity that has worked their ruin. The gods who have great things in their charge, must sometimes overlook small matters; they must save the community by sacrificing the individual[41]. The storm may rage in the valley, yet there is peace on the mountain heights[42]. The philosopher who is absorbed in contemplating the great whole cannot even see the flaws in its details. ‘If the gods care for all men,’ says Cicero’s authority, ‘it follows logically that they care for each single man[43].’ ‘Nothing occurs on earth, nor in the heaven above, nor in the sea, apart from thee, O God,’ sings Cleanthes[44]. ‘It is impossible,’ says Chrysippus, ‘that even the least of particulars can fall out otherwise than in accordance with the will of God, with his Word, with law, with justice, and with providence[45].’

226. The doctrine of providence, carried to a logical extreme, leads to the denial of the existence of evil. But the Stoics did not draw this conclusion; had they done so, their whole treatment of ethics would have become futile. We have therefore to scrutinize carefully the language that they employ. If we meet with the paradox that ‘this is the best of all possible worlds,’ we must remember that all paradoxes need for their interpretation some sense of humour, and that the ‘best possible’ is not the same as the ‘best imaginable.’ Somewhere or other there is, in a sense, a limitation to the sphere of providence. If again in poetical passages we learn that ‘nothing occurs without God,’ we must not forget the doctrine that good and evil are alike brought in the end into harmony with the divine nature. The most exact statement of Stoic doctrine would seem to be that evil exists indeed, but is not the equal of the good either in intensity or in duration; it is an incident, not a first principle of the universe[46]. From this point of view it becomes possible to ‘plead the cause of the gods,’ to defend providence from the heavy accusations men bring forward against it[47]. Thus the Stoics set about to prove that, in spite of the existence of evil, the universe is ruled by the foresight of a beneficent deity.

227. The first argument for the defence is logical, and is pressed by Chrysippus. Good implies its opposite, evil. ‘There could be no justice, unless there were also injustice; no courage, unless there were cowardice; no truth, unless there were falsehood[48].’ Just in the same way we find coarse wit in a comedy, which is objectionable in itself, and yet somehow contributes to the charm of the poem as a whole[49]. The second argument is based upon the doctrine of ‘necessary consequence’ (παρακολούθησις). The general design of the human head required that it should be compacted of small and delicate bones, accompanying which is the inevitable disadvantage that the head may easily be injured by blows[50]. War is an evil, but it turns to good by ridding the world of superfluous population[51].

228. More important are those arguments which introduce moral considerations. In the first place the generous intentions of providence are often thwarted by the perverseness of wicked men[53], just as many a son uses his inheritance ill, and yet his father in bequeathing it to him did him a service[54]. The Deity treats good men as a Roman father his children, giving them a stern training, that they may grow in virtue[55]; those that he loves, he hardens[56]. Earthquakes and conflagrations may occur on earth, and perhaps similar catastrophes in the sky, because the world needs to be purified from the wickedness that abounds[57]. The punishment of the wicked, for instance by pestilence and famine, stands for an example to other men, that they may learn to avoid a like disaster[58]. Often, if the wicked have gone unpunished, the penalty descends on their children, their grandchildren, and their descendants[59].

229. The very multiplicity of these explanations or excuses betrays the weakness of the case, and the Stoics are in the last resort driven to admit that the Deity is neither all-knowing nor all-powerful, and that the sphere of providence is limited by an all-encircling necessity. Thus Chrysippus explains blunders in divination by saying that ‘the Deity cannot know everything[60],’ and though he ascribes to the Deity all power, yet when hard pressed he admits that he cannot do everything, and that ‘there is a good deal of necessity in the matter[61].’ In this way he is forced back to the position which the shrewder Cleanthes had taken from the first[62]. After we have taken away from fate all that has life or meaning, there remains a residuum, which we can but vaguely assign to some ‘natural necessity[63].’ This point once granted, we realize that it includes many of the detailed explanations previously given. Thus it is by ‘natural necessity’ that good cannot exist without evil; that the past cannot be altered; that the one must suffer for the many[64]; that the good cannot always be separated from the bad[65]; that character grows by the defiance of pain; that the individual is everywhere exposed to disaster from tyranny, war, pestilence, famine, and earthquake.

230. The recognition of the limitations of divine power creates a new tie between gods and men. Men are no longer the mere instruments of providence, they are its fellow-workers; we may even go further, and boldly call them its fellow-sufferers[66]. God has given man what he could, not what he would[67]; he could not change the stuff on which he had to work[68]; if anything has not been granted to us, it could not have been granted[69]. Under such circumstances a sensible man will not find fault with the gods, who have done their best[70]; nor will he make appeals to them to which they cannot respond[71]. Even less will he quarrel with a destiny that is both blind and deaf[72].

231. In the Stoic explanation of the universe fortune plays no part; it has no existence in the absolute sense of the term[73]. But in practical life, and from the limited point of view of the individuals concerned, fortune is everywhere met with. Her actions are the same as we have just seen to be ascribed to ‘natural necessity’; storms, shipwrecks, plagues, wars, and tyranny[74]. Fortune therefore by no means excludes causality, but includes all events which are without meaning from the point of view of the individual[75]; all advantages or disadvantages which he has not personally merited, and which are not designed for his individual discipline. So great is the sphere of Fortune, that it appears at first that she is mistress of human life; and we may picture her as a tyrant, mocking and merciless, without principle and without policy[76]. The further consideration of Fortune belongs to the department of Ethics.

232. The supreme problems of philosophy, in their relation to gods and men, the fellow-citizens of this universe, centre in the question of free will. If we grant that the divine power is to some extent less in range than the power of necessity, does it still remain open to us to attribute to it within that range some real choice between alternatives, something of that individual power which common opinion attributes to kings? or must we on the other hand regard the divinity as a mere symbol of an unchanging law, girt with the trappings of a royalty from which all real share in government has been withdrawn? Is man again a mere puppet under the control either of fate or of fortune, or has he too some share in creating the destiny to which he must submit? Supposing him to have this power of will, is it bound up with his privilege of reason, or do the animals also possess it?