be spoken of as though it were of Stoic origin.

Seneca is fond of contrasting the sage with the proficient. The sage
is like a man in the enjoyment of perfect health. But the proficient
is like a man recovering from a severe illness, with whom an
abatement of the paroxysm is equivalent to health, and who is always
in danger of a relapse. It is the business of philosophy to provide
for the needs of these weaker brethren. The proficient is still
called a fool, but it is pointed out that he is a very different kind
of fool from the rest. Further, proficients are arranged into three
classes, in a way that reminds one of the technicalities of
Calvinistic theology. First of all, there are those who are near
wisdom, but, however near they may be to the door of Heaven, they are
still on the wrong side of it. According to some doctors, these were
already safe from backsliding, differing from the sage only in not
having yet realized that they had attained to knowledge; other
authorities, however, refused to admit this, and regarded the first
class as being exempt only from settled diseases of the soul, but not
from passing attacks of passion. Thus did the Stoics differ among
themselves as to the doctrine of "final assurance". The second class
consisted of those who had laid aside the worst diseases and passions
of the soul, but might at any moment relapse into them. The third
class was of those who had escaped one mental malady but not another;
who had conquered lust, let us say, but not ambition; who disregarded
death, but dreaded pain, This third class, adds Seneca, is by no
means to be despised.

From these concessions to the weakness of humanity we now pass to the
Stoic paradoxes, where we shall see their doctrine in its full rigor.
It is perhaps these very paradoxes which account for the puzzled