How very good and happy and
blessed of heaven is the life of the soil, when along with it the goods of the
spirit are not neglected, the example of Myson of Chenae may show, whom the god
called "wise", and Aglaus of Psophis whom he hailed as "happy”, both of whom lived on the land and tilled the
soil with their own hands, and held aloof from the life of the town.
Is not their example worthy of
emulation and an incentive to follow in their footsteps and to embrace the life
of husbandry with a zeal like theirs?
Even if there is good money to be made, there are
still the sort of people who will have absolutely nothing to do with farming. It
would be too crude, too unrefined for their sensibilities, as wealth is of
little use to them unless it is mingled with honor and glory.
The best kind of man, they believe, rises above
such common things. Where is the nobility in getting your hands dirty, in
making do with less, in not being seen as extraordinary by the crowd? The good life,
after all, must surely be extreme and ostentatious.
Where we find nobility will follow from what we love
the most, and so I have learned quite a bit about the character of others
simply by observing where their priorities lie. I do not mean, mind you, merely
following what they say, as that is not necessarily the same as what they do.
Will it be a life committed to acting with conviction or to making an impression?
A farmer, or anyone with similar values, has no
room for putting on a show. His crop or his livestock will not thrive or
wither away depending on how he is perceived by others; he finds his worth in deeds
for their own sake, informed by a cooperation with Nature, not in deeds for the
sake of appearances, motivated by outdoing someone else.
It may not be flashy work, but it is sincere work. Perhaps,
in a sort of mirroring of the Bhagavad Gita and
the Tao Te Ching, it is nobility precisely
because it isn’t trying to be noble, virtue without asking for any further reward,
success with no need for striving.
Myson of Chenae, often listed as one of the Seven
Sages of Greece, was praised by the Oracle at Delphi for his great wisdom, and
yet he was “just” a farmer.
When King Gyges of Lydia asked if anyone was
happier than he was, the same Oracle pointed to Aglaus of Psophis, yet another
farmer.
I have long been moved by the story of Cincinnatus,
who is said to have left his farm to lead the armies of Rome during an
invasion, and even as he was giving dictatorial powers, returned right back to
his farm after the job of defending the state was done.
One might ask who would be so foolish as to
surrender such a great opportunity? Perhaps someone who realized precisely that
working his own land was a far better thing than holding high office.
Written in 11/1999
No comments:
Post a Comment